


Angel of Music

by Royalteablue



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: College!AU, Don't let the major character death scare you, Eventual Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmare, POV Jean, TW: Kidnapping, and also Hanji is gender ambiguous, its ok, lots of swearing, mentioned Homophobia, minor nyctophobia, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-04 16:13:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13368402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Royalteablue/pseuds/Royalteablue
Summary: Jean and Marco run away from their home in Trost after their neighbours go missing without a trace other than a number of identical shattered mirrors. The elite Levi squad is useless, none of Jean’s friends are replying to his calls or texts, and Marco is acting oddly. Problem after problem is piling up. Like how Jean is harbouring a little- ok, absolutely massive- secret from Marco. Add a talking cat, a zombie with a thick skull, and a nefarious, white-masked monster, and you’ve got the recipe for a hearty night of horror.





	1. Guns N' Roses but less roses and more kidnapping

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I'm finally posting this! I'm excited. Are you excited? I hope so.  
> Lets dive right in!
> 
> (wait, hold on)  
> (My main tumblr is royalteablue or my side is dramaticassfreckle)  
> (ok lets go)

I blink my eyes open to a semi-lit living room.  
_Did I fall asleep?_  
I yawn and straighten- hah, _straight_ en, Mr. King of Bisexual- my torso up, wincing when my neck twinged from the odd twisted angle I had somehow come to sleep in. Why did I procrastinate on fetching my neck support pillow again? I always regret it. How the hell did I fall asleep anyway? Falling asleep during a film about fighting titans probably said something substantial about my need for sleep.  
My loyal laptop never seems to mind though. It’s sits atop my thighs, it's screen black. I shove it off my lap gracelessly and stand, stretching out my arms above my head and groaning when my shoulders give a satisfying pop. Honestly, that’s the best feeling.  
I huff out a contented breath and walk to the kitchen to snag something to eat. I dig out my phone from my pocket as I sit on a wooden IKEA chair and feel a twang of disappointment when the screen displays a grand total of no notifications. Where the hell have all my friends gone? Even that ass Eren can't be bothered to answer to my half-playful jabs. Nothing. Reiner is MIA. Connie hasn't texted me back for two weeks. Even precious Historia is silent.  
Ouch, guys.  
"Maybe they're just really busy?" I frown to myself.  
Wounded heart aside, I glance at the time and see that it was almost 11:00 pm. Oops. Since I no longer have any real hope that anything particularly adventurous will come up, dinner aka slightly larger-than-just-a-midnight-snack seems like a good plan. Perhaps food can lure my best friend and roommate, Marco, from his cave- uh, room.  
Unfortunately, unlike many of our friends insisted, we don’t have a mind link and can't read each other's minds. I would need to ask Marco what he wanted for dinner.. _with my own words._ Gasp!  
I chuckle at my own lame humour and start walking down the hallway to Marco's room on sock covered feet, the susurration of the cloth on the floor creating a soft feeling in my chest. I poke my head around the door frame and see Marco sitting at his desk, with his computer glowing in front of him. I step into the room silently. (Thank you socks.) Marco doesn't even move, enthralled in whatever is on his screen.  
Typical med student. Studying way longer into the night than he should.  
"Don't you know that it's unhealthy to stay up until stupid late, Freckles?"  
Marco whips around with a gasp.  
"Woah!" I stumble back a step, hands raised.  
Marco blinked and I could see his eyes scan my body quickly.  
Shit, I don't usually scare him that much...  
Words came tumbling quickly from my mouth "Uh, sorry about.. that. Just thought you might want some food and-and a break? From your work?"  
_Smooth as extra crunchy peanut butter, Jean._  
"Whew" Marco breathes out slowly, clearly trying to calm himself...and failing. He still looks scared. _Why does he still look scared???_  
"Yeah. So..."  
Marco clears his throat.  
_He even sounds scared! What the fuck?_  
"Actually, I'm not really... hungry. O-or tired. Really. "  
Now I'm confused. And a little worried and give him a look that says exactly that. He’s always hungry after studying! Hell, I get hungry after studying, and I eat while studying. (Unless I have paint on my hands. The unequivocally nasty taste of paint and sandwich. The only thing I totally hate about being an art major.)  
"Uhh... ok. Well, um, let me know then. If you get hungry. Or if you need anything else." _Crunchy peanut butter, Jean. Just getting crunchier._  
I start backing out of the room but stop when Marco looks down. Y'know, wouldn't mind that whole mind reading thing just about now...  
Marco clears his throat again. "Uh. Ok, don't laugh. But I found this thing."  
"Thing?" I step towards him and he turns back to his computer.  
"I wasn't studying- I took a break and found this. And I'm kind of.. freaked out? "  
I lean closer in curiosity, shoving my ideas of food into the back of my mind, and follow Marco's finger to his computer screen.  
_A news article?_  
At the top, unsettling words stated that a group of at least twelve people had gone missing.  
" 'Their disappearances left no clues- ‘not even fingerprints’, says Officer Hannes of the Trost Crime Lab. The infamous Officer Levi and his squad are working day in and out, while coming up with few clues. The only thing that connects the missing persons are their ages- the youngest being 19 and the oldest being 21-, the city in which they live- Trost-, and the fact that every mirror in each victims house was completely shattered. Police will be working their hardest until the missing town citizens are found. Until then, the Trost Police Force recommends citizens stay vigilant and reminds all to report any suspicious activity immediately. The names of the missing citizens are as follows-” Marco gulped, effectively cutting my reading off and I look up. He’s shaking, his freckles less visible than usual behind the paleness of his face. God damn, he’s serious.  
“What do we do?” Marco whispers, his voice quivering like a leaf in the wind. I feel a lump rise in my throat in response to his fear.  
“W-well, when was this posted? Maybe it’s old? Who wrote this article anyway. Maybe it’s just some fake bullshit.” I turn back to the screen, which has gone into power save mode. Marco opens his mouth and whispers the exact words I don’t want to hear.  
“Today, by Trost City News. “  
Shitfuckdamnit.  
Hmm, I curse a lot when under stress. Or was it fear?  
“Jean, what do we do?” Marco leans towards me. “These… missing people went missing from pretty nearby. What if we’re next?!”  
“How do you know they were nearby?” I grumble.  
Marco gulps again, takes a deep breath and puffs it back out.  
“I know this city. It sort of… divides by age. The college is nearby and rent isn’t bad, so college students are more likely to live around where..we..live. And the ages of them suggests they’re all probably going to college.”  
(Even scared, he has a logical and calm head. Do I really need to explain why I adore this boy?...Not that he knows that...or will...at least anytime in the foreseeable future.)  
Admiration aside, I’m getting really scared, fast. I hate scary movies and my life just became the beginning of one.  
This sort of stuff is supposed to stay in video games!  
“That’s what I thought too, but I guess the world disagrees.” Marco growls.  
Oh, I said that out loud. Also, fuck off libido, this is a scary situation and yes Marco just growled but chill. Time and place.  
“What- I- shitting fuck, what- What are we doing??"  
Now serious fear really is kicking in. I turn to Marco, desperate for an answer, for an 'it will be ok', or a solution to the situation. But Marco’s just as scared as I am, and is just having a different reaction.  
He’s frozen, eyes wide and scared, like a kitten confronted by a growling dog. He looks like he’s trying to think about what to do, but nothing’s coming to mind, only the dull sense of a threat. "Marco!"  
Our eyes locked. His soft hazel eyes were vulnerable with fear. Fuck.  
"I-I don't know........ Maybe the police will stop them. I-I mean, it’s the Levi Squad, right? Best of the best."  
I can hear the begging in his voice, but I know that was just a bad cover, a failing trick trying to force the reality away. I wish I could trick myself too, to feel safe again, with nothing more threatening than a particularly bad day or getting sick. What I wouldn’t give for a crappy cold instead of this. My mind still isn’t accepting this is reality. It feels misty and thick, like looking through fogged glass or touching honey. But unlike honey, nothing about this is sweet.  
A heady silence falls in the room as our brains race. I turn idea after impossible idea over in my head. It’s like going into the worst kind of shock. Selfish as it is, I hope that Marco snaps out of it. He’s learned how to work under pressure at the med school, right? Please let me be right.  
After what seemed like eternity in silence that was filled with so much fear that no awkwardness could join it, Marco and his angelic voice saves us from it. Maybe not in the way I had imagined. I don’t get a hug and a soft voice promising that we would be ok. No sir.  
His voice has a new toughness to it, like stone. It was like a new side of Marco, a cold, unrecognisable one. And damn, does it throw me for a loop.  
"We'll leave. Tomorrow we can see if it's ok to come back." He stands up from his desk chair in one swift movement and walks over to his closet, his back to me and my very very shocked- and maybe a little turned on- face.  
"Pack a bag. Clothes, medical kit, maybe some food." Silence falls again. How the ever loving fuck do I respond to that?  
Marco glances behind him to where I’m standing, frozen.  
This night is getting weirder and weirder and wow, is it hard to process. What the hell happened to my Marco? Soft and warm and so sweet, you could get a cavity if you spent too long looking at his smile?  
"Jean." Marco’ s voice is muffled and far away.  
Huh. Is this what going into shock is like? Weird.  
“Jean!”  
Wait, what?  
I try to step backwards, meaning to go towards my room and attempt to follow Marco's instructions of packing a bag, but instead stumble forward into Marco, who is now standing directly in front of me. I hear a small "oof" as I collide helplessly into Marco's chest and, after a long moment of embarrassment, feel long arms wrap around my back.  
Thank god, Marco is still Marco and not a heartless, shape shifting imposter.  
My arms curl around his shoulders and I squeeze tightly, burying my nose into the space where his neck and shoulder meet. The warm smell of peppermint and lavender washes over me and I feel a my shoulders relax a little as a familiar voice pours into my ear.  
"It will probably be only one night that we're gone. And wherever we end up going, remember I'll be there with you.” Marco steps back from me and his warmth follows him away. This is happening. He holds me out at arm’s length and looks directly into my eyes. (Be still, my heart.)  
His face is painted with a small frown as he meets my probably terrified eyes.  
"Pack a bag, quickly, ok? Please. We need to go as soon as we can."  
I feel Marco remove his hands from my shoulders and watch him turn and lift up the bag he had chosen from the desk.  
With a million things racing through my brain, I reply a meek "ok" and stiffly walk towards the door. As I exit the room, I hear Marco mutter to himself, "I just hope we get out in time."  
_Yeah, me too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After working on this for what feels forever and now I'm finally posting it. Hey, you're here reading it! Thank you very much! I hope you enjoy your time here.
> 
> Ok, that was painfully formal. If my back was more stiff, I would be a statue. Or a butler. And since I'm neither- usually-, I'll stop being so awkward. Sorry, hope I didn't scare you off. Genuinely though, thanks for reading my work and I really do hope you enjoy. And there's a comments section for you if you don't. All feedback is totally appreciated.


	2. Badness with a side of gay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My main tumblr is royalteablue or my side is dramaticassfreckle  
> come say hi!

My mind is reeling. It's like I’ve fallen into a non-reality and everything is in slow motion. I try to shake off the chills running up my body but the insistent fuckers just increase. I only have a fuzzy thought that I have to pack a bag to run with.  
Deep in thought, I’m in the middle of picking up a shirt when I hear an earth-shaking explosion that makes me flinch so hard that I fall into my clothes cabinet and then onto the floor. Ow. Sorry, tailbone.  
My socked feet scrabble against the floor to stand up and I stumble out the door to find out what had made the treacherous- or less elegantly put; fucking TERRIFYING noise.  
Marco is behind me as I run to the window to see what happened, but I hardly need to go that far, as the street was brightly blazing with fire, making the room glow orange.  
What I see and feel cannot be efficiently expressed through the english language.  
I can see figures dancing about the flames with guns and knives. I can see at least a dozen police trying to fight back, but failing as guns flash and silhouettes fall to the ground. I cover my mouth, feeling nauseated.  
"Oh god. " I barely hear Marco over the static in my brain.  
Another, even louder explosion shakes the building and I rip my eyes away from the slaughter going on in the street. I feel like if I were to talk, I would choke. If I were to move, I would fall. I can see Marco shaking in terror. The cold confidence he held earlier had evaporated. Any chance of safely and calmly leaving had gotten up and left.  
An unimaginably large explosion goes off, followed by six quicker, smaller ones. We both jump backwards, crying out in shock. At least, I cried out. Marco sort of whimpered and I immediately decide that I never want to hear such a distressed noise again.  
I feel Marco’s hand find my wrist and squeeze hard. My hand tingles as the blood flow halted.  
"We needed to have been gone already, " I choke out.  
"Do we run?"  
There’s a long pause.  
"I really don't want to, but I think that's all we can do now."  
Marco’s voice sounds as if he’s given up hope, but at least he’s hiding his fear pretty well. Has he forced his brain to work past the gunshots and murder outside?  
Damn, this man is spectacular and terrifying. I love it. And if we survive this, I’m going to tell him that.

"We need to leave as soon as possible."  
I turn and shoot back to my room, gathering all that I can. I shove on shoes and fetch a medic kit from the bathroom cupboard.  
I hear Marco in the kitchen, shuffling around to pack food.  
Just for a moment, I feel a deep tug on my heart. Marco is being so incredible- so controlled in such a catastrophic situation. He’s going to such a phenomenal doctor. I’m flooded with pride.  
_Fuck your ‘time and place’, I’m proud of my best friend, ok?_  
I was engulfed by thoughts for a moment too long; another short round of gunshots went off and they seemed closer to the building.  
"Marco! We have to leave! Now."  
I try to keep my voice steady while saying this, and almost succeed, save for the last word, which comes out more like a whimper.  
"Coming." Marco appears at the doorway and we both hurry for the front door, but just as Marco's hand rests on the doorknob, he pauses.  
"How are we going to get down? Do you think that the elevator still works?”  
Oh. I hadn't thought about that.  
"Why wouldn't it?"  
"All the explosions. We don't know what they were directed at."  
"Oh. Well, If not, we'll have to go really quickly down the stairs." Marco's voice has gone back to the cold one that presented itself earlier but his eyes are telling a different story. He’s absolutely terrified, and yet again I feel the magnetic tugging in my chest.  
I inwardly sigh, ignore the urge to hug Marco for the second time that night and let him open the door hesitantly.  
"Here we go." I mutter to myself, and step out of the door, unsure if I will ever come back.

We creep down the stairs leading to our apartment and step out into the dark hallway. The main stairs can only just be seen, leading a downwards pathway into dark nothing beneath us.  
"Check the elevator." My voice comes out as a wobbly whisper. I feel like if I move too far from the wall, something will attack me, but I force my feet forward. Staying close to Marco has worked so far and I’m not stopping now, even if he’s just as stiff with fear.  
When we reach the elevator entrance and find that it did indeed still work, my head fills with new anxiety about what might happen when we get to the bottom. Would we be ambushed? Would we run? I feel the lift start to sink.  
_Holy shit. Oh my god. Jesus, Zeus, Buddha. Uuh, tooth fairy?? I don’t know! Someone, can you help us out here??_  
My heart pounds harder. Marco has backed into a corner.  
_Are we really doing this, running away from murderers and kidnappers?_  
That particular thought only increases my heartbeat. At this rate, I’m going to die of a heart attack before we even get to the bottom.  
The elevator jolted and I gasp and whimper, stepping back to squish myself into the corner with Marco.  
For the rest of the time in the shuttering elevator, we lean against each other, our shoulders pushed together, elbows poking into each other's side. Both of us are shaking in fear of what rages outside and is slowly getting closer to us as we travel down.  
_Fuckfuckfuck_.  
After what seems like both eternity and a millisecond, the elevator stops with a heavy thud. At this point, we can both hear the yells and screams of the fight outside, and are very reluctant to move.  
I eventually mumble into Marco’s shoulder, "We need to go. It's not safe in here."  
But as much as I know we need to leave, to run, to hide, I fall right back into silence and haven't moved an inch towards the door.  
_Well done, Jean. You helped the situation exactly O%._  
Marco nuzzles closer to me.  
Usually, I would be stoked. But right now? I can’t even appreciate it.  
Neither of us moves a muscle, until a extraordinary explosion goes off. It feels like it’s right next to us with how it makes the lift jump and rumble.  
I tense and squeak, "We have to go now!"  
I stare at the lift door, my mind rushing with images of people with guns bursting through them and killing us, two terrified young men, as we’re huddled in the corner in terror. Thinking this only makes me, if possible, more scared, and I try to move impossibly farther into the corner. Finding that I can't simply melt into the wall anymore, I stop trying and just stand, paralysed. Marco is almost wrapped around me, as he has miraculously shifted to be behind me. I think it’s called being used as a meat shield.  
_Thanks, Marco, love you too._  
We stand completely still, pressed as close to each other as we can be, listening to the hell waiting to consume us outside.  
As our ears are bombarded by the sound of death-probably brought by knives due to the drawn out screams of agony- I notice that I have somehow been brought to standing in front of the lift door. Well, how the hell did that happen?  
I want to back away as soon as I realize, but Marco is still behind me, so instead I forget about what awaits me.  
I forget about the noise.  
I forget about the blood.  
I forget.  
My hand slowly drifts up the wall and pushes the button that opens the door. The metal in front of us groans and haltingly opens. My feet move themselves and I slide out the door, mind numb. Once again, time slows down.  
Everything blurs into fluctuating space as I step into the open air of the outside. I dully recognize Marco's hand on my back. The warmth burns and I feel as if I’m leading a young child into war. Then the hand moves, sliding across my hip and smoothly into my own hand and holding tightly, as if it were a life source. My brain snaps back and every sound and action is magnified tenfold.  
_Hello_.  
Every cold night breeze is like an ice age, every burst of nearby flame an inferno. Every shadow of the fight in the street looks like a wild dance. My eyes widen at the overload of sensations and with them I realize that Marco is talking softly, voice quivering again. "Jean, come on. Let's go, before they see us!" I hear him, but the words don’t register, drowned out by another feeling.  
Thrilling, and shocking, and absolutely terrifying. Marco's hand in mine makes my heart feel like it’s trying to burst out of my chest: a boiling bubble fit to explode.  
I smile, which I know I shouldn't.  
_You’re supposed to be his friend, Jean._  
_Just his friend. _  
It isn’t right.  
That I care so much for my best friend; too much.  
That the way I look at him is affectionate, too affectionate.  
But this little bit of contact gives me so much strength.  
_Fuck it._  
I roll my shoulders, re-adjusting the backpack I had stuffed my things into with my shoulder blades. I glance down at my and Marco's intertwined hands, admiring.  
I look directly into Marco’s eyes, which are watching me closely, waiting.  
_He trusts me so much._  
I grip his hand tighter.  
"Ready to run, Angel?" I grin as I see Marco's eyes widen as he hears his rarely used nickname, and with a yank of my hand, we streak down the road, away from the hell attacking our home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annndd the body count starts rising. Sorry about that.  
> Not that sorry.  
> Pretty sorry.  
> Kinda sorry?  
> Average amount of sorry. Yeah, lets go with that.


	3. Tears of an angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wanna say hello?  
> My main tumblr is royalteablue or my side is dramaticassfreckle

  
Cold wind blows back my hair as Marco and I tear down the dark street, away from the fight in front of our home. After hearing from a news article that people were coming to kidnap- kill, maybe?- us, we tried to leave our home as soon as we could, but were too late to get out calmly and were affronted with a small war, the criminals wielding guns and bombs. We only just got out safely, with the kidnappers left behind us, fighting the police, who were quickly perishing to the bullets of the firearms.

  
I’m reliving the nights horrors in my mind, too caught up to notice that Marco has slowed his running slightly and is slowly shifting behind me, his hand pulling farther and farther away from my side until my arm is stretched out completely in an effort to keep hold of Marco’s hand. I suddenly notice how much my lungs are burning and slow to a stop. I lead Marco into an alley off the street. I guess adrenaline only goes so far.  
I gasp and curse myself for not noticing sooner. Coughing, I bend down in exhaustion, my hands on my knees as I suck in greatly needed air.  
I can hear Marco panting next to me. Both of us are bent over, gulping in oxygen. This probably doesn’t look particularly flattering. My lungs scream as the cold air sweeps in and out of them. Fuck, it feels like I’m breathing in glass shards.  
I uncurl and straighten- ignore the pun, I _know_ \- up to my full height and frown at Marco, who has his eyes closed as his chest heaved with his efforts to breath.  
"Marco, are you ok?" Hah, stupid question. Of course he’s not.  
But Marco nods anyway and gulps, causing him to cough. I shift in front of him and look at his face, which is twisted up and pained. His...eyes? They’re shining. And his cheeks.  
Oh _fuck_ no.  
I gently pull him into a very convenient beam of moonlight to get a better look at him and see that his eyes are streaming, red and puffy. My own eyes widen and I find my hands lifting to his cheeks and wiping away the residual salt water.  
_Huh. I’m literally cradling his head in my hands. How many times have a dreamed of this moment?? Too many. And now its happening on the night sent from hell. Damn._  
Marco looks at me and blinks. He looks miserable. In a moment of emotion- and probably stupidity- I decided to push our limits. I stroke my thumbs across his cheeks and he leans into the touch.  
_ohmyGODisthisactuallyhappeningfuckimsoinlove_  
I guess inconvenient crushes on your best friend don’t just disappear based on situation.  
Marco melts against me and sniffs a tiny sniff.  
_Aaaand I’m drowning in emotions._  
I feel so heavily _guilty_. How this was my fault, I don’t know, but my dumb brain makes me feel it anyway.  
It also makes me pull my very distressed friend into a tight hug, wrapping my arms around him as if I was trying to block out all the monsters trying to hurt him. Marco lets himself be engulfed by my arms and he hides his face in my neck. I can feel his warm breath against my neck and squeeze him tighter. God, we have lost so much tonight. Our safety, our home probably. Hell, we may have just lost our long lifespan considering who we just left behind us, albeit ephemerally considering how fast those killers move. I tilt my head and press my cheek against Marco’s hair and murmur the first words that come to me.  
"It's ok. We got this far... we just keep going. And...remember I'm still here. I'll always be here, no matter what. " I hope that last part isn’t a lie. Who knows what will happen tonight.  
Also, anyone order extra sweetness? Because that’s what that was. I can just imagine the tooth cavities forming.  
I can feel Marco shaking in my arms and without thinking, I press a kiss to his forehead.  
A quiet bubble surrounds us, the only noise being the rustling of the leaves of the trees around us and I bask in the peace, doing my best to forget about what this night had shoved into our lives, enjoying the peaceful moment.  
_Wait_.  
_I just kissed Marco._  
Well, isn’t that a punch to the gut.  
“Shit, s-sorry-”  
I immediately loosen my hold of Marco and try to pull away but am stopped by a strong pair of arms tightening around my waist. Marco’s head presses needily into my shoulder and I hear him sniffle again.  
_Oh, thank god, I didn’t totally fuck up._  
I hesitantly squeeze him close again. I feel his lips shaping words on my neck and repress a shiver.  
"Thank you… for being here. I’m glad it’s you I’m with right now. “ Marco’s voice is muffled by my jacket and the fact that he’s sort of speaking into my neck, but I heard every word hyper-clear.  
_Hello, blush._  
I know Marco to be dulcet, but expected that even Marco had a limit to his sweetness. Guess not.  
"Hah, you wouldn’t be able to get rid of me if you tried." I cough out.  
I nuzzle the top of his head with my nose.  
“Um, and I’m really glad you’re my partner in crime tonight too. A-and in general. Thanks.”  
The entire thing is sickeningly sweet, but the whole got-attacked-tonight thing sort of excuses it.  
I give Marco an extra tight squeeze and start pulling away. I want to stay in that moment forever, but I know that we aren’t out the woods yet. I wish we could be back in our warm, comforting home, curled up on the couch under the same blanket with our shoulders brushing while watching one of the stupid shows we like, and I want it so much that my chest hurts.  
I want to kiss Marco softly awake on nights that he falls asleep at his desk while studying, be able to say that he’s mine, to comfort him and make him smile and laugh and for this awful night to be over. But wishing doesn’t do anything good. It just gives me false hope.  
I pull away completely and sigh. _Way to ruin a perfectly lovely moment for yourself, Jean._  
"What do we do now?" Marco asks softly.  
I don't answer for a long while. I don’t want to face the problem, not yet. I want the moment to continue. But… wishes.  
"We keep running and hope they don't catch up to us, I guess. Since this alley isn’t exactly the ideal spot to stop."  
Marco’s face falls, but he nods. I take a deep breath and turn my head back to the open street. I pause. I want to try something.  
_Please, please…_  
I hold out my hand for Marco, hoping to everything holy under the sun he won't reject it. I see Marco smile, just barely, and he steps forward, sliding his hand smoothly into mine again.  
It feels perfect, how they fit together. Warm and soft and grounding. I squeeze his hand for reassurance once, and slowly step back into the real world, ready to run and fight for the most important person in my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think your dentist is calling about the cavities you got from all that fluff.


	4. A syringe of steamroller

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> self promo eyo  
> My main tumblr is royalteablue or my side is dramaticassfreckle

 

  
The street light flickers as I step under it and look over my shoulder. It feels like something is watching me. I listen closely for the rushing of a car or hollow footsteps approaching. Nothing. Well, good and bad. That means no bad guys, yeah, but also no good guys. Good guys, preferably with fast cars.  
I’ll keep working with what I have.  
The air smells of car gas, rain, and something on its way to rotting into a mushy heap, probably in the garbage bins behind us. I can feel cold anxiety surging through my veins as I watch the empty road for shadows, and stop walking for a moment, standing up tall and thin like a vigilant soldier.  
I feel a tug, reminding me of what I’m supposed to be doing- moving, running away- but even with the gentle pressure on my hand, I didn't move. (Hah, ever the rule breaker.) My mind is laced with rhetorical questions and I feel my stomach coil into a ball of nerves each time I pin down one of the many curiosities bouncing in my head. Ugh.  
Marco's voice is distant in my ear.  
"Jean...Why are you standing still? We should be moving."  
I hardly turn my head before answering distractedly, “I'm listening for the fighting."  
I feel Marco increase the pull on my hand and hear his footstep against the pavement as he moves forward insistently.  
"Could you listen while we walk? I feel like I'm going to get jumped."  
“..... yeah, so do I.”  
I step back from the curb I had been intently listening from and fall into step with Marco, who is keeping a quick pace.  
"Any ideas of where to go?" I ask, letting my I-totally-know-what-I’m-doing persona down.  
"I don't know where would be safe. Trost park? It’s pretty nearby..." Marco suggests hesitantly.  
I’m not about to fight him, seeing as we have no other plans. Or choices. Damn Trost for being so small and unheard of that it doesn’t have any hotels and nightlife is nonexistent. Basically, we can’t go to anyone to help us. And the police are already doing their best and dropping like flies.  
"Ok... It's quite open, so we have running space if we need it. But people might be able to see us..." I roll pros and cons in my head. "I guess we can give it try. I really don't want those people to catch up to us...what would they do if they did? Actually, don’t answer that- I don’t think I want to know. Yet."  
We walk in agreed silence, alert of any noises that could have been made by anything bigger than a mouse. The buildings on either side of us loom like black giants in the night, towering over us as we flit in and out of their shadows. As the street widens into a main road way, the clear-skied midnight merges into a cloud littered black, the twinkling stars peeking from corners and through holes. Trees line the stretching pavement as the path leads us farther into the maze of stone steps and statues that is the park. A burning cold pinches my nose as I slow my pace.  
"Ok, so... we're here.. now what?" I whisper, glaring at a bush that just rustled.  
"Um. We could wait. We could keep going.. We could hide. I don't know. We’re quite a ways from where the fight was, so I feel like we’re be safe for at least a little while. " Marco replies, contradicting his last words slightly by shifting closer to me when the shadow of a tree branch flicks in front of him. _Feel safe, my ass._  
I suggest that we find a place to hide and rest for a couple of minutes. After the only response I’m offered is a quiet sigh, I gently pull Marco under a weeping willow tree, it's coiling, drooping branches and abundance of leaves encircling us in a dome of green. I can hardly see through it. Good.  
I silently thank my luck, for the tree is shielding a raised wedge of stone, which held in dirt and grass like a pen. It ends up being a decent backrest. With shuffling closely up to Marco, I feel shivers racking his body. Adrenaline really took it out of him, I guess. I wrap an arm around his shoulders and nudge him closer to my side, rubbing circles on his arm in what I hope is a comforting gesture.  
_Is this what normal friends do?_  I ask myself.  
I inwardly wince- am I pushing too many boundaries?- and shuffle my leg awkwardly away from Marco’s, where it had been firmly pressed. Marco makes a disappointed sound and insistently moves into my side, curling his left hand into the fabric of my coat.  
_Did I die and go to heaven??_  
"Um..? Marco, what are you..doing..." My soft whisper dies in my throat as Marco’s cheek rests on my shoulder.  
“Shut up, Jean.”  
“Shutting up.”  
_Oh my god._  
Getting over the initial shock, I smile down at the peaceful form, and rest my head on his. I know I should tell him how we can't sleep here, not until we are completely sure that we’re safe. But I keep quiet, gazing down at Marco, my Marco, pretending for just a moment that the beautiful, glowing body resting on me is completely mine.  
_I’m so gone for this tremendous man it hurts._  
Marco has his eyes softly shut, his silky hair speckled with moonlight. It reminds me of the freckles on his face. His hands are curled in my coat, and his body is tucked into mine perfectly, making it difficult to tell where I end and he begins. I am utterly captured by the beauty of my best friend. The glow of the moon makes his gently tanned and freckled skin look like diamond. I gaze at him, knowing that he can’t see me. I know I’ve got a bad case of heart eyes. I’m so in love, sometimes I think people can see love hearts drifting off of me. I’ll probably tell him one day. Just… not anytime soon.  
We sit for ages, Marco asleep on me as I keep watch for literally anything- good or bad. _Hey, is that a cat over there?_  
I blink and it’s gone. Damn.  
_This is actually pretty peaceful._  
I let myself smile (Despite my ass being mostly numb from sitting on the unforgivingly hard and cold ground).  
As soon as do that, the moonlight is cut off.  
_Shit.  
I just can’t get a break._

My heart jumps, hammering in my chest and I snap my head up to the sky. Dark clouds are rolling overhead, shutting out the light harshly. Maybe this could be helpful, preventing anyone from seeing us… but that also means we can’t see _them_.  
"Jean?" I heard a small voice next to me, and looked back down to see Marco with tired, hooded eyes.  
_My heart just did a thing. Dammit, it should be illegal to be so cute!_  
"Hey, um, how are you? You fell asleep. On my shoulder." I say the last part under my breath as Marco yawns. He looks a bit like a cat as he stretches. Reminds me of the cat I saw earlier...  
"Ok, I guess, considering all that's happened. Thanks for letting me sleep."  
Marco unsticks himself from my side- shit, now I’m cold- and crawls forward on his knees to look at the sky, staring up into the shadow above us, oblivious to my cheeks burning red and my mutter of, "yeah, of course, you needed it."  
"Do you think it's going to rain?" Marco whispers, his unease returning in his voice. "Fuck, I hope not, we would freeze." I reply, already shivering from the loss of Marco’s warmth. _Hey, I never said I was good in the cold! I usually have my portable heater of a best friend by my side._  
"I thought you were good in the cold?" Marco looks over his shoulder at me and my chattering teeth.  
“Where d-did you get th-that idea?” I mumble-chatter in his general direction.( _Mumble-chatter, it’s a new word. Go me_.)  
He raises an eyebrow. “You..told me?”  
“When did-”  
I’m cut off by a violent shake which just manages to squeeze a whine out of me. _Goodbye, dignity. It was nice knowing you._  
Marco, being the saint that he is, shifts back to me and presses against me.  
“Here you go, you big baby. You got your warmth back. “ I can hear the tease in his voice.  
_Did I say saint? I meant little shit._  
I open my mouth to retort something, but shut it quickly after a gravelly yell come from behind us. I feel Marco stiffen and suck in a breath.  
Funtime is over.  
"We need to go. Right. Now." I hiss.  
"Why?!" Marco hisses back.  
"They’re looking under trees. They’ll find us."  
I see Marco bite his lip. Anxious tick.  
"Are we about to die?" Marco turns his head towards me, eyes wide. I’m trying to calculate possible ways to run and not get caught, but forget damn near everything in the world when I see his face.  
_I totally have my priorities straight. Marco vs the world. Guess who wins_.  
"Um. N-No, not if we run fast, right? Look for ways we can run so we can get out of this intact." I whisper, my heart thumping in my chest. Marco bows his head and takes a deep breath. I give into the urge to kiss his temple- risky, Jean - and creep towards the trunk of the tree.  
"Maybe we can run from under the trunk, away from them. They're faced the other way. They might hear our feet, but maybe if we're fast enough...? "  
Marco nods blankly, joining me at the wall of rocks near the bottom of the trunk.  
"Ready?"  
"No, not really." Marco is _visibly_ shaking and, fuck, I hate that he has to go through this. I   
"C'mon, we can do this." I offer in what I hope is a calm, collected voice, but my voice shakes at the end.  
"This is insane!" Marco choke out, but he edges forward and braces his body to run. "One." I wheeze, hearing heavy steps come closer to us.  
"Two.."  
A voice gruffly barks a reminder to the others to shoot anyone they find.  
"Three!" I pounce forward, gripping the tree trunk for a moment to push myself off. Marco does the same, and we join hands as we burst into the open space.  
Like hell am I losing him.  
I hear someone behind us yell in triumph and feel my veins fill with ice cold dread. I yank Marco forward, causing him to trip up, but we can’t stop. Marco bounces off his toes and regains his balance. _Thank fuck_.  
Adrenaline is pumping into my blood in what feels like gallons, making me feel like I can run sempiternally. I hear the men yelling behind us as we leap through foliage and over steps. We streak past trees as bullets whistle towards us, which then tear into the trunks of unfortunate trees and foliage when they miss their mark.  
Then my luck runs out.  
I feel a explosion of pain, sharp, burning, and insistent in my shoulder. My world goes white for a split second and I stumble. Marco pivots his feet and catches me with an arm wrapped around my chest, then bolts, yanking me forward again. The pain is buried under the overdose of adrenaline currently surging through my blood.  
Three more rancorous pursuers lunge out from behind a clump on high bushes and Marco flinches away, knocking into my side. He pulls me sideways, racing towards nothing in particular. We tumble up steps, onto a large expanse of rock, which is distantly littered with statues. The closest is a huge, black lion. I pull Marco up to the lion statue and we stumble behind it only to find more men, large and greasy looking with ripped clothes and blackened teeth.  
"Nonono get AWAY," I sputter pathetically, taking a dramatic step back from the looming beast of a man and his absolutely rancid breath.  
Marco drags me backwards and tries to run again, away from the lion and the men with me in tow. We’re on a stage of stone and the men cage us, circling around in a ring.  
NononoNONONO  
I press my back to Marco’s, feeling the muscles of his shoulder blades knot and tighten.  
"Get back, leave, FUCK OFF!" Marco spits in panic, his feet scrabbling for traction on the cement, pushing him away from the gross bastard stalking towards him. Unfortunately, he’s pushing me _forward_ and in the direction of the one coming towards me.   
"I-I-ahhh-" I garble.  
The men stomp closer, snarling inhumanly and grinning with rotting teeth- or what was left of them- showing.  
I brush my hands against Marco's thighs, trying to find his hands. As soon as I feel them reaching back for me, I grip them tightly, probably too tightly.  
_Marco, I promise you I will find a way out of whatever is next._  
Marco snarls as one of the men jumps forward and grabs his arm, twisting him away from my grasp. I watch helplessly as a needle is stuck into his jugular. Marco groans and falls limp, his eyes flicking shut as his knees buckle, leaving the vile man with his weight.  
"MARCO!" I jolt forward towards his body, only to be tussled backwards by two men, who have firm holds on my shoulders and biceps. I thrash, straining against the sharp pinch of their fingers digging into my arms.  
_GET OFF ME GET OFF_  
MARCO  
MARCO  
MARC-  
I feel a harsh bite in my neck and try to scream, but it only results in a high whine and I feel my legs collapse under me and my body turn to lead. The world swims in slow motion, soundless, weightless.  
_I’m sorry_ …..  
My eyelids feel like there are elephants stepping on them, impossibly heavy. I give in to dreamless, drugged sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha...ha...oops.  
> *slithers away in the shadows guiltily*


	5. Hm, fuzzy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have.  
> My main tumblr is royalteablue or my side is dramaticassfreckle

_ Owwww…. _

_ Why does my head feel like someone threw a brick at it and then rolled a tractor over it for good measure? _

I pull my eyelids open and groan.

_ And why is there, like, close to no light? _

From what I can feel, I’m laying down on something smooth and cold. It also smells a little like iron. Is that coming from what I’m laying on or something else?

_ It smells like its coming from some place closer to my face. Like, my shoulder. But that wouldn’t make sense, I’m not bleeding.  _

_ I think. _

A noise next to me spurs me to groan again and turn my head, which feels like it’s a gazillion pounds. I blink away the misty film of sleep from my eyes and a huge cage comes into focus. 

_ What’s in there? _

I squint. The cage door is open. Oh. It’s empty. Crap.

_ Or.. what escaped? _

I turn my head to see a height of flimsy looking metal bowing outward. It’s cracked open at the very top, letting in white light. Moonlight, probably. Reminds me of the backdoor on those big ass trucks that haul around produce to major stores. Why am I in one? I’m not produce. 

"What the hell is going on..." I whisper to myself, voice gravelly.   
With an enormous effort, I sit up, to the great displeasure of my head. Yep, still feels like an angry lumberjack is trying to chop his way out my head. Ok then. I glance over to the cage again and my heart jumps. 

I scoot back like it’s going to bite me. 

Is that what I think it is?

Slowly inching closer to investigate, I find the cage wires to be rusted and cracking, some even half disintegrated in a small pile of orange. My eyes shift to what made me jump; the floor of the cage. Blood, bright red and sticky looking, coats the bottom in a misshapen puddle. I sniff; it doesn't smell rotten.    
_ Fresh blood?  _ I ponder. _ Whos? _

I stare out the stretch of black space behind me. 

If this is a produce truck, it’s long enough that inky black shadows swallow the place in silent dark.  
_Wait, how am I seeing anything right now? That little moonlight isn’t_ **_that_** _strong._

A soft glow coming from behind a small heap of rusted chains catches my eye. Well, if that isn’t creepy...

I reach behind and rescue my phone. The screen is completely ruined. It’s so badly cracked that I can't see the time for the white, spindly powder that used to be my phone screen.   
"Oh, how convenient," I grump.

Another noise like the one I heard earlier issues from my poor phone and my attention is brought to a text.    
**Monsieur Le Vicomte, we meet again. Now, you foul man, you shall pay for taking my angel of music from me. Dear Christine Daae will be playing the main in our show this beautiful night. You will be able to hear every silky, perfect note that she sings. Hurry along, old nemesis, or you will miss her performance.**   
I have no idea who this is, and I have no intentions of finding out. Curiosity kills. Still, I re-read the message a few times over, pondering. Not like I know any villains. Or who these people are. The names sound familiar, but...   
Something is missing. What am I missing? Something important...   
"Oh my god; Marco!" I say out loud, mentally and physically slapping myself. (ow)    
"Where is he, how could I forget, you idiot Jean!" I scramble up and wobble forward. I feel lopsided. My shoulder twinges. (Still not convinced I’m hurt.)   
I hold up my phone, using it like a flashlight as I creep into the shadows. 

_ Shit, I hate this. _

As I progress, I see crates stacked in towers and pyramids with rope in dusty piles inside. Metal disks lay unevenly with barbed wire tied around them in looping criss-cross. Weird accessory.  _ Is it an art piece? What else could it be? Did I want to know? Nope.  _ __  
I walk over to a crate on the ground that is broken open in front, the arm-wide hole splintering and sticky, like someone had smeared tar all over it. What the fuck.   
"Curiosity kills..." I mutter to myself.

I look at it as if it’s cursed. 

And then I kneel down next to the crate to look inside the hole.    
_ This is stupid. _

I can’t quite see through the hole though… so I decide to be stupid again and reach a hand forward- my right hand, not my left one since my shoulder is being futzy and is actually starting to really hurt, what the hell- and poke at the obstruction; a piece of wood jutting out from inside. As my wrist brushes the rim of the hole, a splinter stuck me and I yank backward, only to get it stuck deeper.   
_ Oh, for fucks sake…. _

I wiggle my arm around a bit until I hear a sharp crack indicating the splinter has broken echo into the crate and I gingerly pull my wrist out of the opening. I rub my wrist, which has now spilt a drop of blood onto my jeans.    
“That’s what you get for being a dumb shit, Jean.” I scold myself and wipe the blood off on my shirt, which I’m now realising is already pretty ruined with something intensely sticky.   
Yeah, probably shouldn't stick appendages into things while inside of the same place I found a blood covered cage and barbed wire.  _ Am I on drugs? Why am I not thinking my actions through? Actually, nevermind, I don’t care. _   
But I still don't know what’s inside the crate. And, y’know. Curiosity. Lifting my phone light, I peer inside. An amber and brown eye stares back from a corner and I almost faint before realising it’s a mirror. Wait, no it isn't. It’s something that I often stare  _ through _ , with its glassy glare and red blip on top, patiently blinking away. I use them to record my progress on my art projects. A camera? I raise an eyebrow and the eye in the reflection raised one right back.    
_ Is someone recording me? Rude! _   
Suddenly, the camera flashed, blinding me, and I flinch away from the white bubbles that I’m now seeing in my light-shocked eyes.   
I stand up uneasily and shake my head, trying to regain my sight.

_ Come on, I need that! _ _  
_ In my ruckus and disrupting actions, I bump into another crate behind me and hear a tiny, panicked squeak. 

My eyes are ok enough to check what made it and so my phone light shines down on the source and reveals a very small, brown, fluffy mouse quivering and probably wondering why I’m dancing around clumsily. I imitate the tiny creature in front of me and squeak. The mouse, who is either very scared or very pissed off, scrambles over my foot in response.

Ok, now that’s going too far. Sight, I can handle. Touch though? NOPE.   
"Ah getoffgetoff!" I sputter, stumbling back in panic.    
I clumsily fall onto a pile of ropes behind me and quickly get tangled. 

_ Fuck. My. Life. _   
"Oh my-" I wobble on one leg and plop down on my ass to try and escape the winding ties of the rope. I stretch down to unknot it and tug it away, but my shoulder spits when I reach down, and I recoil like a snake with a grunt.  _ WOW, that hurt. Why did that hurt? _

………………..

_ Oh. Right. I was shot. How did I forget that?? _   
I sigh and hit the floor hard in frustration, only to grab my hand and cradle it, muttering profanities at the pain that I just caused myself. I’m really not winning any awards for intelligence tonight.    
"Jean?" A whisper from behind me echoed around the walls, and almost succeeded in causing my death via heart attack.     
I twist around to see Marco looking at me from where he leans on a pile of crates.

And now, the entire night is coming back to me. 

Marco has a small, dark bruise on his neck where he had been shot with the needle and four long scratches on his cheek.    
"I heard you cry out. You ok?" Marco asks innocently, tilting his head to the side in concern. 

_ Dear god, he’s cute.  _   
"Your cheek...?" I raise an eyebrow and gesture with my head to the gashes on Marco's cheek.    
"I met a cat. I guess it thought I was funny, stumbling around in the dark." Marco says dryly.    
"Oh. Ok..... Anyway, I'm… making do, thanks. How about you? You ok?" I ask, inwardly astounded at Marco's ability to joke even in our current situation.    
"Physically, mostly fine, I think. " He twists his neck, attempting to stare at the walls around us. I doubt that did much;  I can hardly see my hand in front of my face it was so dark.    
"So... where are we?"    
I shrug, before realising that that was pointless, as we really couldn’t see anything.

"A truck, I think. Y’know, one of the things that carries food and stuff to major stores? I woke up next to something that resembled a...door? I'm not positive though."   
Marco sighs. "Great. Come on, we should have a look around." He starts turning away from me and I clear my throat.    
I tug fruitlessly at the ropes around my legs. "Little help?"

“Oh, sorry.”   
Marco turns back- thank god, don’t leave me- and kneels down beside me. He immediately starts working, moving faster than I could, even if both my arms were in full working order. Wow, efficient. 

"Why couldn't you get yourself out?" Marco asks with an amused air.

_ Ok, now that was irritating _ . 

Shit, pain makes me pissy.    
"My shoulder." I growl.

_ Does Marco really not realise what danger we were in? How can he joke? _

Luckily, that statement was quite enough to snap Marco back to sense, as is evident when Marco flinches back.

_ Crap. Now I feel bad.  _

"Oh, shit, sorry, I completely forgot! Are you ok? " Marco frowns, his hands paused in mid-air with the rope twirled around them.  

_ Stop while you’re ahead, Jean! _   
"Oh, I don't know. I was shot. What do you think? I'm just peachy." I spit at the ground.

_ Or not. _

Marco recoils, looking hurt. Crap, wait, I didn’t mean that!

“Sorry, I mean-” Marco stumbles over his words. 

“Fuck, I didn’t mean-”

Queue awkward silence.

This proves that I possess all the grace of a dead fish dropped from a great height.

Marco coughs and vaguely gestures at me to talk first. I sigh.

"It's ok. I'm just tired and in pain. I shouldn't have blew up at you. What I mean about my shoulder is I don't know anything about it accept the fact that it hurts. A lot. You can check if you want." I pause and smile- or grimace, really, but I tried- at Marco. “Mr. Medical student.” 

Marco nods, but he looks better, so I think my little trick worked. He’s very happy with his medical studies- he lights up every time we talk about it. 

Marco shuffles and leans closer to see the wound in the little light that we have.    
I tilt my head away so Marco can access my shoulder better. I feel his hand brush over my neck and tense. Yeah, I trust him, but this still fucking hurts.

"Jean,  please do your best to relax."    
Marco's delicate fingers start peeling my shirt back from the dried blood on my shoulder and I suck in a violent breath as a bolt of pain stabs into my shoulder. My vision swims. 

_FUCK. OW._   
"Sh-i-it...." I bite my lip harshly to stop myself from crying out. What if it attracted whatever got out of that cage?

Marco shifts and the pain spikes again.    
Why hadn't it hurt this badly when I was first shot? Adrenaline is a blessing until it wears off.    
"I'm really sorry Jean, I am so sorry-"   
"I-it isn't your-r fault...gett-ting shot isn't-" I hiss through my teeth and thrash my head to the side when my shoulder suddenly twitches upward as Marco places his hand over the wound, which is now seeping fresh blood.    
"-Supposed to be fun." I finish, panting. 

I guess that my body finally gets the fact that I have a bullet lodged in my flesh and burning pain ripples through me like waves. When I was shot, adrenaline was on my side. Now it’s worn off and _dammit_ , my shoulder hurts like a fucking bitch.       
"Oh Jean, I am so sorry..." Marco murmurs in a soft and supposed-to-be-comforting voice. 

I just grit my teeth and grunt at him. My nails scrape on the ground under me, trying to find something to grip.

I hear him gulp, take a deep breath, and let it out. “Ok, Jean, you’re going to have to be very brave now. And I’m sorry.” 

_ Excuse me, what?  _

“Why, what are you doing?”

He clears his throat- another anxious tick- and proceeds to say the worst words in the world in a strong voice.

“I have to get the bullet out.”

_ EXCUSE ME, WHAT?!?! _

I guess I look as terrified as I feel because Marco puts a hand on my cheek and rubs a thumb over my cheekbone. Wow, that  _ is  _ effective. 

“It will hurt way less once it’s out. And-” he digs something out of his pocket, “because I’m paranoid and always prepared, I shoved some rubbing alcohol and a roll of ace bandages into my pocket.” 

_ Have I mentioned that I love this man? I really love this man _ . 

“So… this is going to… hurt like a bitch. And then it’ll feel a lot better. Yeah?” I affirm. 

“Y-yeah.“ Marco’s voice shakes. Of course he’s nervous, he has to dig out a bullet from his best friend’s shoulder.    
I gulp. I  _ really _ don’t want to have to do this. 

“O-okay. I trust you.” There’s a nervous lump in my throat and my voice comes out thick.

“You’re going to want to bite onto something.” Marco’s voice is wobbling, but he’s confident. Oh, god, this is going to happen.

I shove my face into my jacket and bite down. I feel Marco’s fingers at my shirt again and tense. My back hurts from how hard my muscles are straining.

Marco drips rubbing alcohol on my shoulder to loosen the blood crowding the wound and I choke as it burns. He mumbles something to himself and suddenly, my shirt is being torn open at the shoulder. I would be in awe of his strength if I wasn’t choking on jacket, trying to muffle my pained noises. And kind of failing.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry…” 

I just whine pitifully. Marco lays a hand on my hip and squeezes. 

“Ok. Take a deep breath, then let it out. Slowly. I need you as relaxed as possible for this...next bit.” 

I obey. It doesn’t do much of anything, but Marco presses his cheek to mine and I manage to gulp down a groan of pain. 

_ He’s here _ .  _ It’ll be ok. _

My heart is pounding in my ears and I feel his hand on my bleeding shoulder press as  his thumb swipes across my skin. 

“The bullet isn’t very deep. So I can get it out pretty easily.” Marco breathes into my ear and I shiver, not bothering to repress it. 

He leans away from me and his face is hardened.

“Deep breath, Jean. I’ll do this as quickly as I can.” 

I take in a stuttering breath and bite deeper into the jacket. 

 

 **Oh** **_bloody fucking_** **hell** ** _._**

 

I’m immeasurably glad for that deep breath as Marco’s fingers presumably push the bullet closer to the entrance wound, as I can’t breath.

And then suddenly, I can again and I just about boil over. 

I choke and the jacket nearly drops out of my mouth before I clamp my teeth into it again.

His fingers dig- literally  _ dig _ \- into my shoulder and I’m paralyzed. 

I couldn’t move if I wanted to. 

All I can do is bury my teeth into my jacket and pant pathetic noise. 

“MmNnnMM!” The jacket effectively muffles me.

“Almost done, love!” Marco sounds so far away and words have lost meaning behind the pain and blood rushing in my ears. I don’t hear.

Something squeezes my shoulder and a gush of warm spills down my chest, sticky and disgusting and viscous. I’m panting, or making noise and I can’t tell which past the fact that I feel my vocal cords rumble. The jacket is nowhere near my mouth and God knows how I sound right now. 

“Oh, sweetheart…” Is that Marco? Is that just an anonymous noise? Fuck, I don’t know.

There’s something surrounding my shoulder and something soft crosses my chest and back and then around my shoulder again. 

A hand on my cheek. Lips on my forehead… A voice. Is it saying my name? I focus on it.

“It’s- it’s done…” 

_ Oh. Right. _

“Marco?” I sound ruined.

“Jean! Fuck, I thought you passed out, your breathing was so shallow. “

I shake my head weakly. I’m exhausted. I just want to rest.

“Jean, stay awake. Hey, hey, can you look at me?” 

I pry open my eyes and can very very faintly see Marco in the darkness. I see his eyes widen and close my eyes as his head approaches mine. Our foreheads press together and I feel wetness drip onto my cheek. I feel him shake. I can understand. I think the reason he is strong is because he can understand the weak, the pain, and the fear. But strength only gets you so far in situations like this, I suppose. 

“I’m ok, Marco.” I reassure quietly. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry Jean…” Marco weeps.

I push my forehead back against his and hum. It sounds more like a growl, but it’s the thought that counts.

“I’m feeling a lot better. You did great.” I’m still shaky from adrenaline and pain, but my voice holds up ok. “Breath, Angel.”

Marco gulps and breathed shakily. “T-twice in o-one night, huh? Spe-special.”

Huh? Oh, the nickname.

I shift so our cheeks are just brushing and huff a laugh. “Well, you’re special.”

Marco blinks- I can feel his eyelashes flutter rapidly on my cheek. “You think?”

I grin. 

“Of course. My...my special freckled boy.” I confirm.

“Oh….good.”

I pull back my head to look at him. Did I hear right? He’s looking down at his lap. Is he smiling? Holy shit, he’s smiling and it’s getting my hopes up.

“I’m glad I’m… your special boy.” The words float out of his mouth softly.

He’s good at soft. He  _ is _ soft. My soft boy. Hm, that sounds good. My.

Something clatters behind me and we both jump. The moment dissolves. 

“We should get some place with more light. Since my phone has apparently wandered away.” I muse and shift my hips. “Maybe we can get some answers to what’s going on.”

“Mhm.” Marco agrees, but doesn’t move. 

“What’re you thinking?” I inquire. 

“What’s the best way to keep you safe.”

Wow, I didn’t expect that. 

“What do you mean? “

Marco shrugs like he’s embarrassed. He wraps the discarded jacket around me to give himself to do. Stalling.

“Um, how to keep you from bumping into something, which could make your shoulder hurt worse. And so. I was thinking of ways to help. “

_ First, that’s so sweet. Second, where is this going? _ I ask him that and he shrugs again. 

“W-well, carrying you crossed my mind. “ He confesses. 

I chuckle weakly. I’m doing everything weakly right now, I know. But also because I would love that. Strong guys are hot, alright? No matter the situation. I’m not just going to let him get away with that so easy though.

“I don’t think that’s required. Also, I’m heavy so it probably wouldn’t work.”

Marco narrows his eyes at me. “You never know until you try.” And then picks me up bridal style.

_ Well, I’m just going to eat my words.  _

_ Also, hot damn. Hello, fantasies. _   
It wasn't helping that the way Marco is carrying me, I could easily lean my head onto his chest. The mental image makes me blush. Now I’m glad it’s as dark as it is. 

And so of course the first thing I say is, “when did you get so strong??”

Marco just huffs and squishes me against his body tighter, nestling me closer for easier carrying. So I have no choice but to marvel at his strength and throw my good arm around Marco's shoulder to help keep myself in the air.

Marco starts walking slowly, reaching out his toe to feel for obstacles. He stumbles once, making me quite hiss profanities as my shoulder throbbed. Marco apologises profusely and he cradles me closer. And, well, I see an excuse to rest my head on his shoulder. He’s warm.  _ Really  _ warm and I’m tired. Maybe I could just shut my eyes for a moment...

"Finally; light!" I feel Marco’s neck arch up taller and the vibration of his vocal cords buzzes on my forehead.

Or not.    
I twist my neck to see a low yellow glow coming from a rusty doorway in the wall. Now that I have light, I can see the floor. Cracked blue and white tiles heavily smutted with blood and dirt. The walls look slimy and I think I can see a trail of cockroaches filing into a crack in the wall and disappearing.   
"Maybe not a truck then." I observe.   
"No, probably not. Maybe a storage bunker?” Marco ponders in a cautious whisper. 

“Maybe.”

“Huh.”   
"Uh, as much as I appreciate your newfound superman strength, can you put me down?" I wriggle in Marco's arms.             
"Oh, right." Marco mutters.   
I shuffle awkwardly out of his arms and step gingerly onto the floor.    
"Ok, so, uh, why the fuck is the floor covered in blood??" 

“I have no idea.”

You don’t need to answer that. I'm just really freaking out right now."    
"Understandable. Um, I’m guessing the floor is covered in blood because either there is a butcher around and this is their...storage or something, or there's a psychopath and this is human blood." Marco says with a calculated and really not-as-scared-voice-as-me voice.

"Oh, thanks. That really helps me to calm down." I crow at Marco.   
"It's the truth! It's a possibility and we need-"   
"Wait, shh!"    
"Hey, I was try-"   
Marco is cut off by my hand on his mouth as I drag him to the wall and hold him. I can feel Marco’s breath on my hand and guessed that he was trying to say something, likely something along the lines of 'what the hell are you doing'.    
I know that he’s about to find out and clutch him to my body as well as I can with my wounded shoulder, which has now resorted to a horrible deep aching. I can feel Marco raise his hand to peel my hand off his mouth, but then there's a booming noise; a heavy thud of a boot. And another. And another. They’re coming closer.    
Marco stiffens in my grip. A yellow light flickers on and we can see farther past the doorway. Every surface has a disgusting green tint to it. There’s a pit in the middle of the room that drops into thick, chunky, brown liquid that smells like rancid meat when the lid is lifted off by a mechanical hook and chain hanging from above. Chains and dirty meat hooks hang from a unseeable ceiling above it.  A long, blood splattered hallway fades into darkness next to the pit and a couple rusty lockers line the hallway wall.    
Both of us, with Marco encased in my arms and me pressing against the slimy wall, are completely petrified. The boots step closer and closer, each stomp louder and more disturbing, as if they’re purposely reminding us of our fast approaching doom. 

Marco has long since stopped wiggling in my arms. Now he just watches as a tall, awkwardly shaped shadow rose from the ground. Marco’s head is turned up enough to be sending stuttering breaths against my neck and I cringe. My neck is sensitive, he knows this.

_ Not a good place to be breathing, Marco!  _ __  
The shadow darkens and my mind starts turning again.  __ We’ll need to run, won't we? Where? Can we actually escape??   
The noisy heft of the step that said nightmare has is making it difficult to think. The boots stomp closer and I can feel the ground shake subtly under my feet. This thing must be huge!    
Thump   
ThumP   
THuMP   
THUMP    
I hear a long, high pitch screeching, like something being dragged against metal. I shutter. It sounds like nails on a chalkboard.

Marco quivers in my arms and I rob myself of a bit of safety to glance at him. Marco's eyes are as big as saucers as he stares into the darkness in front of us. He presses deeper into my arms, away from the growing form nearing the doorway. He leans into my left arm more, making me grunt as my shoulder protests again. Bad move.   
The shadow just beyond the doorway freezes and I hear metal grinding against metal, like something turning.    
Thump. A bloodied white boot pokes out from beyond the door frame. A massive grey hand slowly reaches around from beyond and grips the frame and I forget to breathe. Thump. A long, thick trousered leg is pushed forward and a wide torso follows, draped in a long ripped and blood stained apron. A grossly oversized hammer is held inside a large grey fist, both in which have barbed wire tied around them, binding fist and hammer together. As the entire body reveals itself, I can make out the skin on the arms of the creature, which is peeling and stone-ish as if it were rotten.  Smudges of grime made the skin look like the coat of a Holstein cow; randomly patched. The coverings consist of a grimy dark blue shirt rolled up at the elbow and a body long apron, grey from use and patterned like the skin of the beast, but replacing the black marks with red.    
It’s torment to even set eyes on its debased and gruesome figure. If this was a video game, I would make a sour joke about how we found Marco’s psychopath. But it isn’t and my larynx seems to be on holiday and my lips feel sewn shut. That isn't to worst of it. I look up about two centimetres to look directly into the eyes of this baleful looking beast. Up, up, up my eyes travel until I’m struck with...   
A lock box.    
A lock box for a head? Am I seeing things? 

_ Why does this look...familiar?  _

Surely I’m imagining this. This is just fucking ridiculous. 

I blink hard and yet the ugly mass of metal remains in front of me.

 

The surface of the metal is unkempt and horribly scratched, with a mint green tint splotched in random places, hinting that bronze is hidden somewhere inside the dark grey-silver colour. More barbed wire is wrapped tightly around the entire thing in two parallel lines.    
Does that mean that this thing is blind?  I can’t see anything that could be used as an eye. Maybe if we’re quiet enough we can sneak away...    
I take a step backwards and gently pull Marco back with me. The monster's arm with the hammer raises slightly.

_ Crapcrapcrap _ .  _ Move, Jean!  _

I take another two panicked steps back and Marco follows. The arm rises more and I swear I can hear the lock box creature growl lowly. I step back once more- and onto something soft.

_ Did I just step on a… cat’s tail? _

The cat yowls and leaps aside, leaving me and Marco with some much needed running space.    
The towering figure roars so loud I think my eardrums are going to explode. It slams the hammer down where we had been standing not a second before. Holy cow balls, that was close. Unfortunately, the big metal idiot knocked a fuck ton of dust from the ceiling with the weight of his hammer slamming down onto the floor and I breath in a lungful of loose dust, sending me nose diving into a terrible coughing fit.    
To the side of me, I hear Marco say, "You! What are you doing here?"    
I interrupt my coughing to rasp, "Are you talking to the cat?!"   
Marco doesn't answer. He grabs my right elbow and yanks me sideways, saving me from another colossal swing from the hammer.    
"Cat! Help us out here!" Marco before turning and answering me, "Yes, I am talking to the cat."    
I open my mouth to say something along the lines of "what the fuck is going on" but the cat- yeah, the furry being with a tail standing on the floor- answers first in a loud voice with a hint of meow behind it.    
"Follow me, dears! I can lead you out- Marco, duck!"   
Just then, the hammer whistles above our heads and I’m pulled roughly into a bow by Marco. Good reflexes.

My head is spinning. A talking cat? A monster with a lockbox head? Did someone slip something into my drink?

The cat yowls again and I’m dragged forward. 

"Let’s go, boys!"    
The cat leaps forward into a patch of artificial light. Its fur looks it’s made out of Tigers Eye stone, striped and gold. It glows next to the dirty, run-down floor underneath it. 

_ What else should I expect from a talking cat? Of course it looks cool.  _

I’m pulled forward unmercifully after the retreating furball, who is now dashing down the hallway that the lockbox head came from. The hallway looks like one might imagine an old abandoned hospital would- mouldy, bloody and stained with mysterious moist patches that no one would want to touch with a ten foot pole. The walls are tall and the ceilings high. Tiles ride up the wall, six feet high. Marco doesn’t even glance at it as we race past. We push past rusty shelves with brains inside jars and tipped over beds with handcuffs on the posts and doors with only a small square carved out for light at the top. Everything you think of when you think of an old, haunted hospital. 

_ Why does this look familiar??? _   
My eyes are everywhere but forward, including on Marco’s shoulder muscles as he pushes open a wide green door.    
"Ok, we’re here!" The talking cat purrs when it slips through the door Marco had just opened.    
"Where's 'here'?" Marco shuffles through the gap after the cat, leaving me last. I hastily squash through as well because like hell am I staying in this creepy hallway longer than I absolutely have to.

I blink: there’s actually a bit of light in this place. It’s a long, thin hallway lined entirely with jail cells and ends with something resembling a very rusty and kind of sideways door. Tall metal bars extend from the floor up to the low ceiling. Lightbulbs hang naked from the ceiling, each one producing a small puddle of sunflower yellow light around it. The floor is made of decrepit cement and has a slight downward dip where mouldy drains lay in the middle. What they drain is obvious from the smell in this place. Not obvious enough? Blood. Blood and maybe a bit of urine. I gag as the repulsive smell invades my nose. The cat pads alongside the cells, brushing its tail against the bars on occasion.    
I clear my throat. Time to talk to a cat. This is ridiculous, but after this night, I’ll believe anything. Actually, is it still “this night”?

"Where are we?" I query to said talking cat.

"Well," The cat sits down and curls its tail around its paws, "we’re in the singers cells. These ones aren’t being used right now. They were cleared about a week ago. The next ones are though! You might recognise some faces, so don't get too excited! We don’t want to make too much noise. You two are still in danger.”

"And you aren't? " I snort. “You’re a  _ talking  _ cat. Evil scientists could… take you away and experiment. Or whatever evil scientists do.”   
"No one suspects a cat, Jean. But you are right..." The cat stretches and jumps ebulliently up into the air.    
I watch as the cat crushes itself into a grotesque glob midair and proceeds to warp and morph in a incandescent, incorporeal cloud of mist. The mist turns coarse, now an abundance of small gold and brown pellets swirling around in an airborne tornado. The pellets suddenly disperse, leaving a human form brushing out wrinkles in their beige long sleeve shirt and white pants.     
"PROFESSOR HANJI?!" 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, long chapter! Also, uh, yeah, Hanji is a cat. And you can throw all the questions you want at me-I don't have any explanation to defend myself with.


	6. Teacher knows best accept when they don't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My main tumblr is royalteablue or my side is dramaticassfreckle

I gawk at my biology teacher, who is now adjusting their glasses.

 _What the actual fuck?!_ _  
_ “ **Hanji!”**

Hanji lunges forward and slaps their hand over my mouth.

Oops. Probably shouldn’t have yelled that.  
"Shhhh!! Remind yourself that you are still in danger! Actually, _we_ , since I’m human again." They fret, looking over their shoulder as if the lockbox creature would teleport behind them. Wait, can it?  
I pry their fingers off my mouth and wheeze, "you're a.. cat?"  
Hanji snickers. They sound vaguely like a squirrel chittering."No, silly, of course I'm not a cat. I'm a Magic. It's just a spell. Sort of. I can turn _into_ a cat. Like animaguses in Harry Potter, if that makes this any easy to understand. "  
Hanji explains it all as if it’s as easy as counting to three. Me however- I think it’s more like calculus.  
I look at Marco, who is standing just behind me, looking just as thunderstruck. Our teacher is magic.  
Huh.

What am I supposed to do with this information?

Make a bad pun. Of course.

“Is this why you always have so much cat hair on your jacket? You take _cat_ naps in your car?”

Hanji’s eyebrows just about fly off their face. “You just learned I can turn into a cat and you make a _pun?_ ” They grin like the cheshire cat. ( See what I did there? Cat? Haha.) “I’m so proud.” Hanji pretends to wipe a tear from their eye.

"Anyways, move those tushes, boys! I need to show you something. Or someone. Actually, someone _s_ , " Hanji bubbles. How the ever loving fuck are they _bubbling_ right now? Everyone knows that they’ve got some bolts loose in the head, but this is kinda pushing it.

They lead us past five cells, all equipped with handcuffs and ankle locks that are welded to the wall and floor. We reach a cell missing a couple bars. The other two squeeze through the very small opening without too much difficulty. Not me, of course. I crush my crotch against the wall and have to stop for a minute. Yeah, my dignity isn’t coming back anytime soon.

We stand in the tiny, cramped cell as Hanji does… something. I’ve learned not to question them by now. So I look around a little more while I waited.

The walls have mold growing on them in fuzzy, black patches and I sniff prissily. I shouldn't be in this disgusting place!  
Hanji finally taps the wall next to them a couple times and mutters something.

The wall crackles and splits unevenly down the middle.

_Sorcerery! Literally!_

The entire thing then melts into a silver mercury-like puddle, leaving a menacingly dark tunnel in front of us.

Hanji lifts their hand so that it was facing upwards and completely flat. They whisper something in, uh, Latin? and a serene Sapphire flame ignites on their palm, turning a very small portion of the tunnel a creepy purple hue.

I would think that was really cool if I wasn’t so scared.  
"Ok honeys, follow me." Hanji creeps into the tunnel silently.  
I really want to protest but Marco is behind me, pushing me forward. I grind my heels into the floor. You couldn't pay me a million bucks to enter this musty smelling tunnel, which is probably packed with poisonous spiders just waiting to jump on me.

“Oh hell no.” I back up into Marco’s chest. Fuck.    
"Jean, come on, " Marco coaxes, nudging me forward.

“Marco, don’t do this to me. You know how I feel about scary movies! And now we’re basically living one. Gimmie a break!”  
“No can do, dear!” Hanji chirps from deeper in the tunnel. “This is the only way we can go.”

“Nope, don’t care, I don’t wanna.”

“Dammit, Jean.” Marco grumbles and shoves me. Hard.

Betrayal!

My feet are forced forward until I’m inside the dusty tunnel. Marco follows quickly and I try to shove past him back into the dusty light of the cell.  
"Ohh no you don't!" Marco grapples with my flailing arm (since like hell I’m going to  move the one I got shot in) until he locks it down with his own arms and traps me against his chest. _Fuck!_

Hanji rushes past and re-assembles the wall with an upward flick of their wrist. The moment the wall is back in place all the outer light dies and all that is left is the haunting glow of Hanji’s flame.

 _Fuck._ _  
_ I stop struggling against Marco and whine.

“Marcoooo, noooooo.”

My heart rate picks up and I can feel my skin heating up. Sweat starts dampening my hands. Why do I have to be so afraid of the dark?

"You're ok. It's ok," Marco coos and plants a tiny kiss on the top of my head- which is buried in his chest- for good measure.

(Maybe I should get scared more, if I’m going to get so much affection.)  
I feel his hand rub my back. This man knows me too well. I start melting into his arms again.  
Unfortunately, Hanji has to break up the fluff fest. Damn you, Hanji.  
“Sorry you’re not feeling great, Jean. But we have to keep moving. “ They sympathise from three metres away. They sound more caring than I would have expected. That’s nice. But I still don’t want to move. Like I’ve said, Marco is warm.  
I feel Marco’s breath tickle my ear and hear a sigh.

Huh.

Maybe he’s as disappointed as I was.

I feel Marco's arms unwrap from around my waist and a gentle nudge after.  
Or not.  
I don’t bother holding back a humiliating whine at the loss of Marco's body heat.  
Marco nudges me forwards and steps to my side instead, taking my hand and intertwining our fingers.

Y’know, I’ve never seen a horror film with so much cavity-causing comfort. But I guess this isn’t a film, so we can act human and actually comfort each other. What are friends for?  
"I'm right here. " Marco smiles delicately in the purple light.

_This light makes him look really beautiful._

I offer the ghost of a smile back and Marco walks forward, urging me to follow with the tug of his hand.  
Hanji turns and treads forward silently on the diaphanously mossy ground with a hum. Was that a hum?

_Did they just aww at us?_

As we trod on through the resonant tunnel, our footsteps are echoed back at us. I bump hips with Marco whenever there is a particularly narrow spot, making me smile.

The smile is a conflicted one, really. Despite our hands being intertwined, I have to remind myself that this 'affection' Marco is showing is because he is _just_ my best friend  comforting me and anything more is meanly chimerical.  
Meanwhile, Hanji whispers back information to us, like how they have been here for about two weeks and know how to get around safely as a cat, the fact that they collect food and water for other people who are also captive, and that this place isn't possibly human run or at least not by anyone sane.  
Because that does so much good for my and Marco's already frazzled nerves.

Wait.

“Uh, Hanji. How did you know where to find us?” My mind drifts to the cat I saw in the park.

Hanji laughs and turns their head towards us. “I followed you, silly! I saw you in the park. Those big lugs that attacked you didn’t even see me when I jumped into their truck. “

Are you kidding me.

“Why didn’t you warn us?? We could have avoided all this!” I howl.

I’m going to strangle them.

Hanji sighs. “I do apologize. I needed them to capture you so you can help me here. The others are too weak to be able to fight back.”

“What the fuck, Hanji. Also, others?? Why didn’t you tell us earlier??”

“ I did! Ah, that’s like you, Jean. You don’t listen to what you should! And before you say anything, I know you sleep in my class. “

“Hey-” I try protesting, but am cut off by Marco.

“Hey, wait, why’d you scratch me?!”

Hanji clears their throat like it’s obvious. Just like in class.

“I was testing your reflexes! Not very good by the way, Marco dear.”

“I was drugged! Of course my reflexes weren’t great.” Marco challenges.

“If you were so drugged, how did you get out of your containment cage?” Hanji challenges back.

“Huh?” Marco and I both are confused. What was this crazy bat talking about now?

Hanji clears their throat again. No, this isn’t obvious! That’s why we asked, Prof. C’mon.

“You both woke up next to a giant cage, right? Those!”

Wait, we were put in _those?_ I thought it was meant for an animal and it had escaped.

“Maybe I was dumped out by who ever kidnapped me. “ Marco hums and I scoff.

“Why would they release us? They fought so hard to catch us in the first place.”

Marco hums again. “Well, I woke up to a text on my phone. It said something about...singing? I think the sender might have had the wrong number at first. They called me Christine. But they also talked about you, Jean. They said that you were, uh, ‘the thief’ that called me Angel. A-and you’re the only person that calls me that. So. yeah. It was really creepy. They kept calling me their ‘Angel of Music’ and telling me that they looked forward to my singing? I don’t know.”

Fuck, that _is_ creepy. This place is really nailing the creepy aesthetic. But the part that upsets me the most is the fact that this person called Marco their angel.

_Excuse me, bitch. I’m the only person who gets to call Marco that. Not you and your creepy ass. And when I meet you, I’m going to rip you a third asshole- the first being your physical and the second you personality. OK? Good. Glad you understand that._

I decide not to mention that I had gotten a text as well. Why bother? It would just freak us out even more. _  
_ Hanji announces that we’re approaching the end of the tunnel. I don't know if I should be glad or very scared of what waits for us, so I just squeeze Marco's hand. Hanji steps forward a few more paces and strokes their pointer finger down the middle of the wall. The wall makes a cacophony of crunching noises until it splits abruptly, spraying dust and grit towards us.

I hold my breath as the dust settles. My throat still hurts from when I had that coughing fit after lockbox head sprayed dust everywhere.

Light pokes through the new holes in the wall and before anyone can make a relieved comment, the wall pulls apart farther. It twists and warps into a black door and Hanji pushes it open with a slow shriek of the hinges. Hanji turns their head and instructs us to stay put before slipping away. I hear a faint whooshing and a tiny meow. Right. I almost forgot that Hanji could turn into a feline.

Marco disconnects our hands and peaks beyond the ink black door. He gasps and slaps his hand to his mouth. I’m both immensely curious and terrified. I rub Marco's back as a signal to move over and Marco stumbles backwards to press against a wall with wide eyes.  
I don't think.  
I don't think about the expression on Marco's face.  
I don't think about what Hanji had said about waiting for them to come back.  
I don't think that I might want to ignore my burning curiosity and pay more attention to the terror.  
I look out to the space beyond the safety of the tunnel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *stares blankly into space* whelp. that happened.


	7. Hey, who needs clothes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They do. They need the clothes. And a shower. And a medic.
> 
> come say hello!  
> My main tumblr is royalteablue or my side is dramaticassfreckle

Now I know why this person wasn’t answering my texts or calls.    
I choke on air. I feel like I’ve had all the air punched out of me. Instead of moving forward- like a _good_   friend would-, I trip backward, back into the tunnel with Marco, and my back meets the wall. We stand, trembling, shell shocked. I can't speak. I don't try. I just stand and pray Hanji comes back soon to explain what the fuck I just saw.    
My prayer is answered moments later, when Hanji trots back into the tunnel, tail high in greeting. It quickly sinks when they see us and our faces.   
"You looked, didn't you," They frown dryly. They sigh.    
“Well, follow me. We're safe, I checked. " They turn around gracefully and flick their tail with impatience.    
I gulp and follow with legs as shaky as a newborn deer, pulling Marco along by his jacket sleeve.    
Once again, I’m greeted with a truly paralyzing view.    
"Hanji, what…” I try to start, but my voice squeaks and dies.    
"Ok, finally. Now that you’re out of the tunnel that you didn't want to enter in the first place, " Hanji jokes- fucking  _ jokes- _ as they jump up onto a barrel next to us, " I can explain where we are."    
I look around reluctantly. My vision is filled with unwanted sights and I shut my eyes, fighting back hyperventilation. 

"This is the 'private keep'. Or so I heard."    
I don't stop to wonder who they heard it from. I pry open my eyes again and instantly regret it. All I can see is jail cells. Like the hallway before, every cell is old and in a repulsive state. The bars are orange with rust and the floors are stained a suspicious reddish brown. But the worst part is what is inside one of the cells.    
Hanji jumps off the barrel and trots over to the cell, which is cut off and distanced from the others in a corner. I catch snippets of their words, as well as a strained murmur coming from the contents of the cell.   
"...yes, they're here...."   
".......can't stay......"   
"Danger......."   
".....no choice......"    
"....the others want....see them....."   
Finally, Hanji turns and beckons at Marco and I with their tail. I obediently step towards the cell and Marco numbly follows. I know what I am about to see. I don’t stop.   
I stop with my face almost touching the bars and am met with a unusually gaunt face atop a sagging body dressed in used-to-be-colourful clothes. I swallow my frayed nerves.   
"Armin..."    
Armin looks up to meet my eyes and that's when my heart really breaks. Armin's usual brilliant electric blue eyes are dull and faded. His body is thin and malnourished. His hair is greasy from lack of washing and his face is covered in a thin layer of grime, tears, and something red and crusted.   
Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ Oh,  _ god, fuck. _   
"Armin...I...I....." I can't finish my sentence. My voice breaks and is trapped behind a heavy lump in my throat, thick and sticky. I feel wetness roll down the side of my nose and drip off my chin. Another rolls onto my lip. It tastes salty and bitter.    
"Jean...I’m..I’m not ok, but I’m alive. Hanji has kept me and the others alive by bringing us food and water. They’ve been risking their life. " Armin rasps, his exhausted voice coming out of his chap-lipped mouth in a croak.    
Hanji speaks up from where they’re sitting next to us.   
"Armin was separated from the others because he's so smart. He got almost everyone out with his last plan. He had already been inside here for about four days with nothing to eat or drink though, so he was too weak and got caught in the last phase. He did get a lot of innocent people out though, " Hanji explains. They turn back and smile, pointy toothed, at Armin.    
Armin speaks softly once more from where he has come up to the bars and he grips them to stay standing.    
"Hanji, show them to the others. Then get them out of here."    
Marco speaks up from where he had been standing silently behind me in horror.

"What about you, Armin?" He asks.   
Armin breaths slowly. "I...don't know yet. I'll get out soon though. I’ll think of something."

Wow, seems like hope is on vacation.   
Wait. Wait! Hanji is magic!    
"Hanji!," I burst, kneeling down closer to their level. " You're magic! Why don't you just... get him out?"    
Hanji sighs with an irritated twitch of their whiskers. "I can't. I tried. They have these sort of...energy bugs that have- what I'm guessing to be- a venom that drains me of all my power for a while. The little things are absolutely everywhere. I tried to perform a simple unlocking spell and I nearly fainted because of those damn bugs. Even now, I’m drained. They got me when I stepped out of the tunnel. The only reason I can hold my cat form is because it’s a blood spell. It altered my blood and doesn’t actually require magic. But anything else? No can do. "    
_ Well, fuck.  _   
"What about police?, " Marco pipes.    
"Both times I summoned them, they all were murdered in less than five minutes. The goons in this place are like undead powerhouses. They can kill a man just by putting their hand on their head and squeezing, " Hanji informs us mournfully.    
"Shit..." Marco wheezes.    
"Hanji...go. The others want to see them, " Armin murmurs at the floor   
Hanji nods. “Right. I'll come back soon. "    
They stand and stretch their back legs. "Come on, honeys. We have others who are waiting to see you. Quickly."   
I gulp a painful goodbye to Armin and Marco does the same while wiping his eyes of tears.    
"We're going to get you out of here. I promise," Marco whispers before trudging away.    
  
Hanji turns their back to Armin's cell and turns the filthy corner that leads to a different hall, which is lined with more cells. Every cell is equally as disgusting as Armin's. I twist my neck to look back at the solitary corner cell that Armin is trapped inside. The space he’s trapped in is the size of an office cubicle. 

_ He’s so brilliant that he was given his own hall to keep him away from the others. Fuck, that’s horrible. _

Selfishly, I can't look any longer at Armin's form curled up miserably in his cell. I turn the corner into the other hall. I’m met with a similar expanse of orange and grey cell bars. Marco looks back at me with pink eyes and wet cheeks. I step to his side and slip my hand into his. It’s all I can do.   
Hanji leads us away from Armin's cell and further forward into the main hall, which is wider than Armin’s.    
"Ok.. You’ll be seeing many familiar faces. Try not to get too...excited. We still need to be quiet," Hanji advises.    
I raise an eyebrow. How many surprises would we get in this endless night?    
Many, many more. My eyes practically shoot out of of head when I see a familiar nearly-bald head of silver hair. But...it’s longer than I have ever seen it. Like a particularly short pixie cut. 

"Connie?!"    
The curled up figure in the corner shuffles and stirs at Marco’s perplexed voice. Connie looks up towards where Marco and I are clutching the cell bars. As Connie reveals more of his face, I can see wounds _ everywhere _ . He has one black eye and a split lip. His jaw is purple and green with bruises. His cheeks are striped with cuts. His amber eyes are cold and dark like Armin's.    
Connie scrabbles up hastily from the corner, leaving behind a lump that is hidden under a very large jacket.    
"Jean! Marco! Holy fuck, why are you here?," Connie curses.    
"We don't really know what happened, " Marco answers from next to me. 

Connie is frantically talking- or trying to and stumbling over every other word. 

"You gotta get out, they're insane, torturing us, and Sasha-"    
Connie is cut off by a hoarse groan from under the jacket.    
"Connie..? Wha... where'd you go? 'M cold. " A faintly Texan accent floats up from the cloth in the corner. The jacket slides down and a brown ponytail of hair flops on a hunched shoulder.  Connie rushed back to the corner to tend to the heap.    
"Fuck, I thought I would lose you. After what they did to you.....," Connie worries quietly.

I see Connie’s arm adjust the jacket, revealing a pale, shaking arm.    
"Sasha?," I breath.    
"Who's 'at? " Sasha's tired voice is laced with caution.    
Connie glances back at us.

"It's Jean and Marco. And Hanji. "    
Sasha groans again. "I hurt…Connie, it hurts…."    
Connie murmurs something that I don’t quite hear and Sasha nods. Connie stands Sasha up with a groan from her and leads her over to the bars, supporting her small body by keeping an arm around her waist. Sasha's shirt can’t be called a shirt any longer. It’s completely red and so ripped that it only covers small patches of her chest and shoulders. Her chest and arms are covered by swollen lacerations and her head sags on Connie's shoulder.    
I open my mouth to ask questions, but nothing comes out. Connie’s voice is shaking like a leaf when he speaks.     
"She was tortured. They ripped her apart." Tears start dripping down Connie’s cheek. "God, her screams.. me too. I was being tortured too. I was locked into the handcuffs on the wall so I couldn't cover my ears. I had to listen. "    
Connie takes a shallow, shaking breath. He’s staring into nothing, reliving it all in his mind. 

_ Good god, this is worse than I could have ever imagined. _

"When they stopped, they just dumped her onto the floor in front of me. She had holes and cuts and-" His voice is cut off by his sobbing.   
I don’t say anything. I can’t. And even if I could, what could I possibly say? 

Sasha tries raising her head from where it’s sagging on Connie’s shoulder. Her normally glowing chocolate eyes are glassy and she has huge purple circles under her eyes.    
"I'm alive, fer now. I'll keep fight'n. But you guys need to g’t out, " She croaks.   
Against the odds, she reaches up a violently shaking hand and wipes a tear from Connie's chin.    
"Go. There'r others who'd wanna see yah. " I know a dismissal when I hear one and Sasha's heavy accent is disturbingly persuasive. I don’t try to fight. I figure that she has the right to give orders after what she’s gone through. 

Hanji stands and promises Connie and Sasha the same thing that they had promised Armin; they would be back soon. Hanji turns to Marco and I.   
"We don't have time to make conversation with many more people," They say sternly. “It would increase the amount of danger we’re in.”   
I open my mouth to argue- we couldn't just  _ ignore _ everyone else- but Hanji isn’t having it. They sweep past my legs and flick their ears. I glance back at Connie and Sasha, who have gone back to the corner. Connie is holding a sleeping Sasha protectively.   
Marco pulls me after Hanji.    
My footsteps are so loud that I feel like I’m intruding as I follow Hanji. I look from side to side at the people inside the cells. I don't have enough water in me to cry for all of them. Cell after cell after cell, familiar face after familiar face.    
Reiner and Bertholdt curled up together, Reiner's face covered in blood except for the streaks of white skin, clean from Bertholdt's tears. Annie’s shallow breaths seen on a chest of flayed and bloody skin. Mikasa laying in a puddle of her own fresh blood. Eren’s wrists are held by leather straps bolted to the ceiling. He’s asleep where he stands with his arms above his head, a puddle of blood growing under him. 

“They don’t bother taking him out of his cell. They do it all right there. His screams echo around the halls so loudly you would think there’s a speaker broadcasting it into every corner here. “ Hanji whispers, voice clotted.    
Ymir holding Historia's sleeping body. Historia is covered in dried blood that crackles and flakes off when she moves. Both of their bodies are lean and unwashed.    
Marco sobs next to me.   
"Oh, God, please no, no, nononono! " Marco gasps as he sinks to the floor next to the cell. Their hair is slimy from not being washed and their faces are gray with dirt. The clothes that drape across their flesh are covered in something that appears to be tar. 

“Momma….” Marco heaves with sobs. “Poppa….” 

Jaques Bodt is passed out on his back, with drill holes through his arms and nails through his fingers. Sleeping Eleanora Bodt has red bubbled burns marks splashed across her face and pus leaking from burst blisters on her arms. Marco hunches over in a ball on the floor and gasps through his weeping. I feel sick.   
Her arms are wrapped around something.    
Someone.     
Little seven year old Marie is asleep, young eyes puffy from crying. Her skin is covered in grime and a number of small cuts litter her tiny arms.

Marco scrabbles at the cell bars wildly, trying to reach her.   
"I warned you," Hanji mumbles weakly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hits self with newspaper* Bad! Very bad boy! Don't be mean to the ones you love! *steps on a lego as punishment*  
> haha...sorry. I have no idea why I do this myself or to my precious babes. Funny how when someone else hurts them (as in a character in a story, not the author) I want to introduce them to the pavement, intimately. but when i do it, i'm skipping through a field of daisies and dancing with butterflies. although that last bit i cried a little. my computer was not happy when i got salt water in the keyboard.


	8. I diagnose you with enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote this. I couldn't think clearly. Erm, straight. I can't think straight. I'm thinking gay. Like, really gay. Oh my god, I'm so gay.

Hanji leads us farther down the hall. I stare at the floor until we reach the end- I can't bear to look at agonised faces with my helpless one. I recognise so many. Mina from college, Thomas from the cafe that I frequent. Anywhere. Everywhere. Marco plods numbly behind me. My hand is wrapped around his wrist after having to drag him away from his family’s cell. After he cried himself out, he became a limp ragdoll. Silent. Lifeless. I can’t stand to look at him, my Marco, ruined.

I look up as Hanji’s pawsteps stop.

Hanji has taken us to the end of the corridor, to the corner. An intact mirror eerily hangs on a strip of cement beside the last cell. 

_ A mirror? Really? What the hell is a mirror doing here? What, the guards need to check their damn hair?  _

Ignoring the random piece of shiny junk, I turn left to smaller, shorter hall with a rusty door at the end labeled BOX5 in embossed letters.   
I look sideways. Another cell. Of course. I’m so glad it’s empty for once. The big, rectangular cell has been made into the wall. Moss peeks out from between gaps in the cobblestone floor. A musty earth smell wafts from the cell, mixed with something sickly sweet- like rotten meat- that has me holding back my gag. 

The walls seem like they’re staring back at me as I glare at them. 

"See that door? We can get out that way. " Hanji says, voice emotionally exhausted. 

Marco shuffles to my side, leaning heavily on me. He growls deep in his throat and leans away. I release his wrist with a flinch.

He’s no longer a limp noodle to drag along. I look sideways at him. His face is stony. But his eyes- they burn. 

He’s back. 

And he’s furious.

“What about everyone here? Are you going to forget about them?”

Hanji stands up to his snarl. “NO. We are going to get help. A couple days ago, I sent a message to other Magics like me. But they’re much more powerful. They can withstand the energy bugs easily. They come from all around the world. They have been making plans. They arrive tonight. I believe you know them as the Levi Squad.”

I raise my eyebrows. “T-the Levi Squad? But those guys are always...here. In Trost. They’re the police.” 

“Yeah, this is home base. “ Hanji acknowledges.

“What if the door is locked?” Marco breaks in. Oh, right. The door dilema.    
Hanji opens their mouth, then closes it with no answer. I can't help but think of how video-game cliche a locked door would be. What next, undead alien soldiers suddenly burst through a hole in the ceiling? Maybe whoever runs this disgusting place likes horror games. 

_ Wait, no, I don’t actually want that to happen. No aliens, please.  _   
I nod. "Good point...Who wouldn't lock the door that has all your prisoners behind it?," I agree. 

Marco and Hanji turn and stare at me. 

"No no no, that wasn't, I mean, I wouldn't really know, it's not like I kidnap people every day- or any day! I've never kidnapped anyone! I mean, I sorta kidnapped for that one game of Murder in college a couple years ago, when I was a freshman, but I've never actually kidnapped anyone or anything, I mean, sometimes Marco’s cactus, Poe, because I'm lonely and want someone to talk to when Marco’s gone on a trip or whatever and.....," my voice peters out. Marco is staring at me with a nebulous expression on his face and Hanji looks like they’re about to sneeze and yawn at the same time. I clear my throat.   
"This really isn't helping me prove my point, is it?"   
Marco and Hanji speak at the same time. "No."   
I drag my hand down my face. "Um, shutting up now." 

Marco rolls his eyes but bows his head and nuzzles into my shoulder like he does at home when he’s thanking me. Why is he thanking me?

“Even in a nightmare of a place with blood everywhere and my wounded family behind me in a cell left to rot, you can make me smile. How, Jean? How are you so perfect for me?” Marco asks quietly. 

“I…” I’m speechless. Did I hear correctly? Perfect? For him? Hardly. He’s the perfect one out of the two of us.

Also, he had nuzzled into the shoulder that I got shot in. He did say it was going to feel better after he removed the bullet, but, uh, I’m pretty sure I’m still supposed to feel  _ something _ . Weird.

Hanji clears their throat and steps back from us. I blink and the moment is gone. Again. (They have a particular skill of breaking up emotional moments and I’m not sure if I’m grateful or not. )   
"Alright lovelies, I'm going to go into human form!“ Hanji chirps. “Then the real action starts and everyone will be rescued! “

I glare at them. “Hanji, I think you’re being a little too cheerful. I mean, are you enjoying this?” As preposterous as it sounds, after what we’ve been through, I’ll believe anything. “Are you on this lunatic’s side or something?” I accuse.

Hanji hacks what is probably supposed to be a laugh. “No, no, don’t worry. If and when we meet the bastard, I’ll be using their intestines for shoe laces. So put away those daggers you call eyes.” 

I huff and watched them nonchalantly as they rise into the air and the gold and brown mist starts swirling. Marco lifts his face from my shoulder to watch as well, his chin propped up by said shoulder. 

And then hell on earth bursts through the ceiling. 

_ Wait, WAIT, I said I was joking about the aliens coming through the ceiling!  _

It’s lockbox head. The bastard is covered in stone dust and the barbed wire around its head is torn off, hanging limply from its neck.

It takes a step backward and I grab Marco’s arm. We have to run again. 

But the beast stops and freezes.    
_ Huh? _

The lock on the lockbox turns. I lose sight of it briefly as the cloud of Hanji rises a little higher in the air and when they lower again, there’s intestines spilling out of the lock box.    
_ Oh, ew! What the fuck?! _

I tense my leg muscles. We have to run soon. Just as soon as Hanji is done...

The intestines twitch. Again,  _ ew. _

Abruptly, they reach forward-  _ into _ the cloud of Hanji. A cat’s yowl rang and the cloud vacuums into itself. A re-formed gold and brown striped cat is tangled in the glutching guts, hissing and spitting. 

Me and Marco jump backwards in shock as a small rusty metal cage drop from the hole in the ceiling. A… cat cage?

Lockbox head turns, picks up, and opens the cage with a gloved hand. The cage door creaks and rust flakes off. A loudly complaining Hanji is shoved in, claws scrabbling and scratching at the entrance as the door is shut firmly in their face. The lockbox beast drops the cage without pause and turns back to us. Hanji falls silent.

_ Oh, fuck no. I am  _ **_not_ ** _ going to just let this thing wrap its head guts around me like it did Hanji.  _

“Run!” I bark at Marco. He does a 180 and runs. I stumble after him as the lockbox beast’s intestines whip towards me. 

Only to end up in Marco’s back.

“Oof! What the-” I look up and nearly faint my heart jolts so hard.

They’re dressed in a long black cloak with a pristine white bow tie that matches the white dress shirt. A black blazer is buttoned neatly with a gold button. A black fedora rests on a head of lacquered-back black hair. A long black cane is held in a pale hand. All fine at the first glance. Reminds me of a halloween costume. 

But the face is what really throws me. 

Half of it is covered by a white mask. The other half grins widely at me. 

“Ah, welcome, friends! I see you have found your way into my opera house. Come! The show shall start soon! Let the spectacle astound you! “ They boom.

This must be a joke. Tell me a this is a joke. Also, this is really  _ not _ an opera house. This person must be completely insane.

I glance sideways as something moves. The mirror, spinning slowly like a revolving door. The click of a leather shoe on the floor yanks my eyes back to the figure.

They step towards us dramatically and I reach for and clutch Marco’s wrist. Their face sours. 

“Oh, Christine. Your mind has been contaminated by this thief. “ They turn their head to glare at me. “You took away my Angel of Music once. You shall not succeed again.” 

I feel something thick, cold, wet and  _ strong _ wind around my neck and watch as it wraps around Marco’s hips and over his arms. 

Lockbox head has caught up to us and this is intestine. 

_ First, EW.  _

_ Second, oh fuck.  _

“Take them to their seats! Christine will sing for us.” They sweep past us and suddenly I’m being dragged by my neck. 

“Who- ah-are you?” I wheeze after them. I see Marco lifted off the ground, squirming. 

The figure turns back to me. 

“Why, I am the Phantom of the Opera.” He sounds offended, like I should have known. 

_ Wait, the actual one? Or a insane fan? Because I know of the Phantom, but  _ **_The Phantom?_ ** _ Impossible.  _

“Old nemesis, have you forgotten? All the pain you caused my heart? How you tore lovely Christine from me? “ He looks at Marco and smiles like he’s in love. Bastard.

“Ah, Christine. You are as beautiful as I remember. And your freckles… they are just as I recall. That is how I found you, my Angel of Music. And now I will free you from the evil clutches of the foul man that took you from me. “ He glares at me before turning back to Marco and reaching up a hand to stroke Marco’s cheek. I snarl, curling my lip up like a dog.  _ This creepy fucker thinks he could call MY Marco Angel?? Bitch, you have another thought coming. It is called my fist. _

“But first, you will sing.” The Phantom murmurs sweetly. Marco yanks his head back and the Phantom’s hand is left empty. 

“I’m not going to do shit for you!” Marco spat in his face. Ooooh, angry Marco. Now shit’s gonna get real. 

But the Phantom just smiles. Wow, what an idiot.

“We will see.” He turns and stalks away and I’m being dragged by my neck again. I choke and gasp. 

Hey, who needs to breath. Breathing is overrated. 

I wrap my arms around the constricting bind on my neck and pull. It doesn’t budge.

_ Wait, I change my mind! I really do need air! _

Another intestine wraps around my hips and lifts. I gasp in sour air. Oh thank fuck. 

“We can’t have our audience missing the show!” The Phantom crows from ahead of me. Ok, less thank fuck. 

But now I can see what’s happening a bit easier. Marco hangs suspended next to me, squirming against his restraints. I see Hanji lying limply, head pressed against the wire of their cat cage when we pass them in the hallway. And I see the door at the end of the hallway open to a darkish room with a bloody surgery table in the middle. 

I start struggling a lot harder as we enter a small, dim room and the Phantom shuts the door. The walls are lined with thick, choking red silk and faded gold trim. There’s a locker in the right corner and a tool bench to the left in front of a assorted pile of shit. I think that’s a wrench, dirty teddy bear, and a…..shattered mirror? 

“Show Monsier le Vicomte to his seat. I shall help Christine prepare for her show.”  His voice is high and excited. I feel chills ambush my spine. 

“Hey, what-” I turn to see the Phantom grip Marco’s arm and the intestines slam him onto the surgery table. 

“Marco!”

_ Like that’s going to help anything, Jean.  _

“Let me GO!” Marco scratches at the intestines holding him down. “F-fuck, get o-off!” He’s shaking and I can hear his nails rattle against the table when the intestines strap his arms down. The Phantom doesn’t look at him twice and walks round the table, pulling leather straps from underneath. 

Wait.

“NO!” I lurch in lockbox head’s grasp. 

The phantom forces Marco’s head down onto the table with solid thud and pulls a leather strap across his forehead. 

“Get off, GET OFF!” Marco arches up off the table just to be shoved back down by the Phantom, who is ready with another leather strap to secure across his stomach.

“Yes, yes, warm up that beautiful voice of yours.” The Phantom purrs. 

I open my mouth to desperately yell something at him but am slammed against the wall, knocking the breath out of me. I feel thick bands being secured around my wrists and waist by cold intestines. 

_ Was I just chained to the wall? _

Lockbox pulls away and I yank at my restraints. 

_ Yes, I was.  _

I look back to the table and Marco is hyperventilating under the thick leather binds on his forehead, hips, calves, and wrists. The phantom is across the room, leaning over something.

“Marco!“ I sound like I’m begging. And out of breath. Both are accurate.

“Marc-uh!” The phantom slaps me across the face. When did he get here? I thought he was busy! 

“Silence! The show is about to start! Watch as Christine sings for  _ me! _ ” He snarls in my face.

I feel something snap.

I snap my teeth at him. I felt rabid, wild, and  _ mad. _

“He’s  _ mine _ . He sings for  _ me _ . He’s  _ my _ Angel!” I bellow, deep and gravelly. I even  _ sound  _ wild. Holy  _ shit. _

I don’t care what Marco thinks of those words. I feel as if only I was released from these restraints, I would rip the Phantom limb from limb. I would tear him into tiny, insane shreds. 

Sadly, I’m stuck to this stupid  _ fucking _ wall.

The Phantom punches me with a rock hard fist and my jaw jerks down into my lip. I feel it burst under the pressure of my teeth and warm blood dribbles down my chin. It tastes like iron. I lick it up and spit it onto the Phantom’s face. 

It drips down his cheek and onto his white shirt. Huh, that’s pretty satisfying. 

He looks at the red stain on his shirt with curiosity and smiles. 

“Now you get the idea.” He purrs and turns his back to me, back to Marco.

“Get back here, fucker!” I snarl.

He ignores me and says, “now, Christine…it’s time.”

He walks to the corner and I hear clanking. I yank on my handcuffs again, fruitlessly. What’s happening?

The Phantom lifts a woven basket from the floor and dumps whatever he was leaning over in.

He places the basket on the surgery table next to Marco’s legs and pulls out a pair of scissors. 

Marco takes in a shuttering breath and starts to squirm again.

“Get off, get away, leave me alone!” He gasps out frantically. 

“Get off him!!” I can’t do anything but yell. 

“Hush, hush. “ The Phantom tells Marco in a reassuring voice. It doesn’t succeed. Marco just starts writhing more, reduced to babbling. 

“Ge’way, get off, go’way, nonono, go’way….”

The Phantom cuts Marco’s shirt in half, revealing Marco’s chest.

I don’t get to enjoy the smooth, faintly toned skin. 

I’m too busy screaming my head off at the Phantom to stop as he raises a corkscrew and plunges it into Marco’s chest. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, if bad ideas were Olympic events, i would easily take gold with the making of this story.  
> also, eyo, droplets ref!  
> oh right, is this where i say I'm really sorry? Again?   
> yeah. that.


	9. Cake or death?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry. Dear god, I'm sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Death, please!  
> No, no, wait! I meant cake!
> 
> heh, eddie izzard ref. a bad one, but still.

Y’know, in movies, torture is almost pretty. Crying with tears that sparkle on a smooth cheek, blood in perfectly shaped drops, rolling deep red into a matching perfectly round puddle. The screams are more like moans.

But this.

This is not _pretty._

This is hell.

“No, NO, STO-” Marco is cut off by his own deafening scream, high and desperate.

I’m just as ruined, face twisted up, forehead scrunched, voice joining Marco’s in the begging.

“STOP, STOP, STOP!”

Marco gasps in a raspy breath and releases it in a window shattering scream as the Phantom twisted the corkscrew into another rib, drilling another hole. I can practically feel the cracking sound in my own bones.

I learn quickly that pained screaming sounded the same, no matter the gender. Pain is pain and Marco is in a lot.

Marco’s back arcs off the table as he spasms. “N’more, NO-”

The Phantom twists the corkscrew deeper, then rips it out with a jerk. Another sickening crack of bone, another piercing scream.

I wail. “MARCO!”  
The Phantom laughs. “SING!” He cries to Marco and shoves the corkscrew into another rib. The screams echo around the chamber as the Phantom twists and yanks the screw around inside Marco. He pulls the corkscrew out with another loud protest from Marco.

“How about we try something a little different now, my lovely? “ The Phantom purrs.

Marco lays limp on the table, panting. The holes in his chest run and it drips blood on to the floor, where it blends in with the blood from past victims.

“Marco...Marco!” I croak. I see his eyes glide sideways to me. His face crumbles.

“Jean...you shouldn’t….see this…. ” He whimpers.

 _That’s_ what he’s thinking right now? Not that he’s being tortured by a psychopath? That I’m being forced to watch? I…..I…..

I shake my head. I can’t say anything. There isn’t anything to say. I was supposed to keep him safe… I told him I would find a way out of this. It should be me on that table.

“I….forgive you..” Marco says with a wheeze. Damn, he knows me too well.

I just shake my head again. I don’t deserve that forgiveness. Of course I don’t. The man I love most in the world is strapped to a table, being tortured mercilessly but a phycopath and I can’t do anything but _watch._ Even if he forgives me, I’ll never forgive myself.

The Phantom approaches the table again and I tense up, preparing for more of Marco’s screaming.

It doesn’t come. What does come is something a little creepier.

“Christine…we are destined to be together. You have seen my horrible face. The one that not even my mother could love. The one that shunned me from the rest of the world. And I think….You should have one to match, my dear…..” He hums.

I might not be a theatre major, but I know about the Phantom’s face. The “normal” half creepily smooth and porcelain pale. The mauled half, pinched and twisted, upper lip inflated and cheekbone grossly protruding. You can see his brain through his stretched, translucent skin.

But...he...he wants Marco to match?

He wants…..MARCO TO MATCH.

“NO! YOU CAN’T!”

I know my screeching isn’t to stop him. This bastard thinks Marco is _singing_ when he’s really screaming. He’s inhumanly insane. But what else can I do?

Marco gets the idea about the same time I do, his face going white and his eyes wide.

“Nononononono…” He cuts himself off with a broken sob. “Stop...please….”

The Phantom leans over him. “But first, you need a dress. How will you perform without proper dress? A costume to match me, perhaps.”

_What?_

_Does Marco get a break? Please, let the answer be yes, please…….”_

The Phantom smiles and goes back into the basket, rummaging.

“Oh, Christine. We are meant to complete each other. My left arm, your right…the left side of my face, your right side...you see? “

He lifts a hand saw.

_NO._

“So let us begin. This dress must be perfect.”

“NO!” I lunge and arch and squirm. Damn these restrains to hell!

“DON’T YOU TOUCH HIM!” I roar.

The Phantom looks blankly at me. “Hush. You’re completely hogging the spotlight. “

He presses Marco’s arm down onto the table and rests the saw blade on his bicep.

“Let me hear your lovely singing, my Angel.”

He grinds the blade into Marco’s arm and grins.

But no scream comes.

 _Has Marco passed out?_ I hope.

“Errrg. “ Marco grunts through his teeth, like the noise had been leached out of him.

No. He’s not letting himself scream.

Oh.

_Oh, yeah._

The Phantom _wants_ him to.

Oh my god, he’s brilliant.

He must be thinking that if he can hold back his cries, the Phantom will get bored and let him go.

“Really? Not feeling it?” The Phantom tilts his head, humming. “Try this.” He starts _sawing._

A long, high wail shoots from Marco’s mouth as his brows scrunch and his face twists impossibly tight in pain.

“There you go….” The Phantom says in a slimy voice.

_CRACK._

Marco’s scream reverberates around the room and his arm flops at an awkward angle.

_Dear god, he’s cutting Marco’s arm off._

_He’ll bleed out!!_

Another long, wild cry joins the cacophony of noise in the room and it takes me a confused second to recognise it’s coming from me.

The Phantom glares at me. “The spotlight, sir, belongs to Christine. “ He looks back at Marco, who is whimpering around a bitten lip. He’s still trying to be quiet.

The Phantom looks at lockbox head- who I had forgotten was standing a corner the whole time- and drawls, “escort him to his room. “

“No, noNO, let me stay, don’t make me leave, MARCO!” I’m dragged out by my neck by lockbox head. The last thing I see before the door slams in my face is the Phantom lifting a cheese grater.

The screams start again less than a second after.

The intestines around my neck tighten and my vision blurs.

“A-ckk..h..” I choke. The world is a blurry mess for an eternal second before I’m dumped in a cell.

The empty corner cell from before.

I gasp in a breath when the intestines unwind from around my airway. I’m still panting when a forlorn meow rings from the corner.

“H-Hanji?” I cough.

“Jean! JEAN! Let me-owt!” Hanji pokes a white socked paw out the front of the cage. “Gotta talk to you!”

I crawl over on hands and knees, still wheezing, and scrabble at the lock. It fights me for a frantic minute, rusted shut. I yank on it desperately and it pops open with a crunch. Finally, a little luck.

Hanji jumps out and shakes them self out. Rust dust flies off in a faintly orange cloud.

“Jean!” Hanji jumps up and slaps me across the face with a paw. Feels like someone papped me with a tiny pillow.

“The Levi squad is on their way, they’re maybe ten minutes away. They would be here faster, but only two members have super speed and teleportation. Levi and Mike can’t transport the entire team. Gunther sent me the message telepathically. Petra-” Hanji is cut off by a long, high, arcing cry from down the hall. I flinch.

Marco.

Hanji puffs up. “Oh my GOODNESS, is that Marco?!”

I glare at them. “You haven’t heard his screaming for the last...however long??”

“No, I was knocked out. I was _dropped,_ remember.“

“Yeah, yeah. Yes, that is Marco. Can’t you do something?!”

Hanji looks stunned. Or like a very frightened cat; flat to the ground, ears back. “Uhm..”

“Come on!!” I roar. “Marco is being _tortured_ in there! And I’m stuck in this damn cell! You’re the only one that can do anything. “

“I...don’t know. I don’t have powers like the others. I can only….” Hanji drifted off, eyes widening. “Oh…”

I don’t have time for this bullshit. I pick up Hanji by their scruff and snarl. It’s loud in the silence that the lack of screams have left.

“Hanji, you useless fucking lump of fur, the love of my life is currently being _tortured_ by a _psychopath_. Get up off your lazy ass and-”

“Feeling feedback!” Hanji crows. Or, well, meows.

What?

“My power is feeling feedback. It’s my main power, so the energy bugs can’t do much about it. So I can feed back what Marco is feeling to the Phantom! I just need to be able to touch his head. “

“Then do it!“

“But lockbox head is guarding the door. I’ll be caught again and it won’t just let me _live_ this time. “

“Are you- did you not hear what I said?! Figure it out! Marco’s screams have stopped for now, but who knows when they’ll start again…” I whine. It was worse having to listen to him and not see him. I don’t know what was happening. What...what if he’s dead? My heart stutters.

“He’s not. The Phantom is careful to keep them alive.”

Oh, did I say that out loud?

Hanji glares at the ceiling. “I know this is cliche, but that’s because it’s effective. I’m going to find a vent and sneak into the torture room. “ They wink at me. “Hold tight, lover boy. Your man will be ok.”

“Shut up and move.”

They hop through the cell bars and dart away. Around a corner, and gone.

I’m alone.

I sink, leaning on the wall. The stone floor is freezing underneath me and I shiver, curling into a tiny, pathetic ball. I’m completely useless. I can’t save Marco, I can’t help Hanji, I can’t save my friends or Marco’s family. I just have to wait. I _get_ to wait. It’s a gift compared to what the others have gone through. And Marco….

Oh, Marco.

When I get past my guilt and horror, I’m left with pure awe **.** He is unimaginably strong. He deserves someone better than me.

_No! Shut up, brain! Remember that he told me I was “perfect for him” earlier!_

Wow, even in a situation as egregious, remorseless, sadistic, just fucking _bad_ like this one, my brain still beats me up. Real nice of you to remind me what a waste of space I am.

Marco is still silent. I can’t decide if the silence is better or worse. What if the Phantom went too far? What if Hanji is wrong and he’s dead? What if-

_No, brain! Shut up!_

I try to focus on something else and lean harder on the wall, gazing blankly out at the cells holding all the people I care about. Why are they here? Were they meant to be bait for us?

If they were, it worked.

Hey, wait. I’m leaning on my bad shoulder. Why doesn’t it hurt? I poke it. Feels fine...so peek under the bloody bandages to find...my completely healed shoulder. Huh? How’s that-

My thoughts are interrupted by a muffled scream from down the hall.

_Marco!_

There’s something different about this scream. It’s...deeper. Wait, that isn’t Marco.

The Phantom!

_It worked! Hanji did it!_

I stand and rattle the bars just as I hear the torture room door burst open and then slam shut. I hear the heavy click of a lock.

Fuck.

Hanji streaks past, nearly slamming into the wall before running down the long hall like they did a couple minutes ago. Where’s the Phantom? I don’t know. But I don’t have the time to think about it as Hanji comes roaring down the long hall fast as a rocket once again.

“I lied! They’re here!” They screech.

It’s a distant rumble at first. Then, I can hear them loud and clear.

Then, chaos.

A zoo of animals thunders into the hall. A german shepard appears out of thin air in front of me, bursting into black mist and reshaping into a tall man with a stubbly moustache and beard and blond hair that hangs down to his ears. A peregrine falcon lands on my cell bars faster than I could blink and melts into a silver puddle, reshaping into the solid form of a short, lean, black haired man with a scowl on his face. A golden lion pads up to my cell and, with one broad paw, tears the bars down into a pile of crumpled metal. The lion twists and a tall man with steel blue eyes and golden blond hair stands before me. Reminds me of captain America.

“You must be Jean. I’m Erwin. That’s Mike and Levi.” Erwin waves to the other blond and the short man.

“Not the time, Erwin. Move your ass before I grow old.” Levi growls and is gone. Super speed. Wow.

Mike sniffs the air.

“Enemies approaching from above. At least twenty. Zombies plus.” He reports to Erwin calmly.

Twenty? Zombies? Wait, plus?

“What’s the plus?” I sound like a kid.

“They aren’t pure zombie: there’s something else running them. An outside force, not a virus like normal ones.” Erwin sounds just as calm as Mike did.

“B-but, you’re talkin’ like zombies actually exist.” I sound less like a kid and more just stupid. Or in shock. Both? Yeah, both.

Erwin shakes his head. “They don’t, we just use that word to explain what kind of enemy we’re fighting. And these enemies are showing signs that are very close to what a ‘typical’ mythical zombie might, according to Mike.”

Speaking of Mike, he’s disappeared. He must be the one that Hanji was saying can teleport.

Erwin raises his head proudly. He looks like a lion even when human. Weird.

“Jean, is this the only hostage hall?” Erwin questions. I can hear in his voice why he’s the leader. This guy has natural authority.

“That I know of…”

“Thank you.”

“Wait, I need your help- Marco-”

He cuts me off by turning back into a lion with a low grumble and roars. Dust falls from the ceiling. His roar even has super strength, wow.

A large red parrot- wait.

Is it on fire- IS THAT A PHOENIX.

Now, I’ve seen it all.

“Ok, Petra!” Erwin calls.

The phoenix- Petra, I guess- screeches and flies back around the corner. Armin?

Erwin bounds down back down to the end of the hall and starts tearing cell bars down. I hear Connie’s voice cry in shock, then in relief. Just as Connie steps shakily around the crumple of metal, Armin comes rushing around the corner, Petra soaring over his shoulder to Connie.

“JEAN!” Armin runs as fast as his skinny legs can carry him and throws his arms around my neck.

“You’re healed?” I cough. For as thin as he is, he gives very robust hugs.

“Yes! Petra is a _phoenix,_ Jean. She has healing powers, every phoenix does. Have you never read Harry Potter??” He gapes at me, flabbergasted.

“Of course I have, but this really isn’t a good time to talk about it.” I say, exasperated. Just then both Sasha and Connie leap onto me, Connie on my back and Sasha on my front. I have become a Jean sandwich.

“Not..a good..time!” I wheeze. They just squeeze tighter. I feel like my eyes are going to pop out of my head.

Thankfully, they’re interrupted by horse hooves. A giant horse with a golden coat and platinum mane gallops dramatically into the Hall, then disappears into a blue shimmer. A man with a blonde bun steps out of nowhere, same blue shimmer dribbling away as he walks further away from where the horse had vanished. Wow, these animal-to-human transformations are just getting more interesting.

“Send me towards where the zombies are.” He bluntly commands me.

My friends point sideways and I turn my head.

Oh.

They’re coming from the hole in the ceiling.

What did I say about aliens from the ceiling?

Guess the universe isn’t listening.

“Aruo, Gunther!” The man calls downwards, into the side satchel that is slung around his neck. A chameleon and a horned viper dart out. The chameleon flashes blue and a man with small, sunken eyes and a two tone haircut replaces it.

“Zombies plus, Aruo.” Eld tells him.

“Oi, Eld, you don’t have to yell every time, you ass- ack!” Aruo has bitten his own tongue.

Eld huffs. “Get to work.”

Aruo rolls his eyes and his body melts. What rises up has gray skin, stinks like rotting meat, and has maggots crawling out of it’s exposed brains. I jump back in surprise and disgust. He just turned into a zombie!

Eld slaps me on the back. “That’s normal. He’s an imitator. That way he can blend in with the zombies and not get attacked.”

Aruo wanders towards the zombies. And then pulls out a machete from nowhere and beheads two.

Another man with black hair that stuck up into a paint brush sort of look steps forward. He thrusts his hand out and the zombies wobble, then all plop down onto their dead asses with a squelch. Ew.

“Good, Gunther. Keep concentrating. They don’t have much mind to control, so that should be easy. “

Gunther grunts. He’s wearing a glowing snakeskin bracelet. (Oh, that’s where the snake went.)

I turn and look down the long cell hall. Most of the cell bars are a crumpled messes of metal now. Petra flits from person to person, shedding healing tears into their mouths. I watch as all their wounds seal. I see Marco’s family, huddled in a corner. Little Marie is crying into her mother’s shoulder.

Fuck, so much is happening. My brain can’t keep up.

Armin is crying over Mikasa’s sleeping body and Sasha and Connie are unhooking Eren from his binds.

I hear Eld grunt from behind me. When I turn around, he’s holding a zombie in midair, frozen mid-lunge. He huffs at me as my jaw drops. “Relax. This Abnormal is sealed inside a time-locked bubble. Handy power, ey?”

I nod dumbly.

Erwin roars. “All squad, move back! I’m going to bring this hall down so the zombies won’t be able to reach us. Then we can remove these innocents from the premise.”

What?

“No, wait-!”

A rush of movement and a roar, faster than I could say stop. Stone rubble, dust, and dirt poured from the ceiling. The remains of a large airvent clattered down with it all.

“MARCO!” I step forward only to be pulled back by a small but strong hand. Levi yanks me back.

“Relax, brat. We’ll find a way around. But there a roughly fifty people that were just released from their shitty ass cells. They’re more important than your stupid boyfriend.”

_This motherfucker._

I turn and punch air, then feel a hand on the back of my head, forcing me onto my knees. My forehead nearly touches the ground. Damn him and his super speed!

“Brat. You listen like a dog. Maybe I should beat you like a dog, too.” He threatens. He tsks and he releases my head with a rough shove.

“Mike, take him into that room. Then transport them both back here. “ He grumbles.

“And if the boy isn’t there?” Mike sounds bored.

“Leave this one. He’s so in love he would dive off a cliff to get to his boy. We need you here anyways. Don’t waste too much time on this.” Levi drawls.

_Bastard!_

I turn to spit a retort at short stack little gremlin, but Mike has already teleported us.

The surgery room is dim and stinks of iron and….something burning.

It’s also completely unoccupied.  

“FUCK!” I kick something and instantly regret it when my toes feel like I dropped a brick on them. The thing I kicked rolls lazily away from me, spilling gold droplets.

Molten gold?

I don’t have time to think about it. The Phantom has Marco. They could be anywhere.

“I apologize, I must go and help with the victims. Good luck.” Mike speaks blandly from behind me.

“Wait-!” He’s gone with a whoosh of air. Shit.

Ok. Think, Jean. Where could they have gotten out of this room? There’s no doors other than the entrance and that’s blocked.

I look down. No secret hatch, the surgery table takes up too much room. There’s no cabinet that could be a doorway.

Ok, Narnia is out of the question.

I look up.

Oh.

There’s a rope hanging down from a wooden slab. I tug it and the wooden slab turns out to be a hatch. The end of a fold up rope ladder drops down, thin slats of wood splattered with drops of blood. Still wet. They’re still close!

I scramble up the ladder, which creaks and complains but holds. I’m surrounded by stone blocks, neatly tucked into each other. An old well? Where the actual fuck _are_ we?

I’m struck in the face by cold, fresh wind and drag myself up onto packed dirt and grass. The sun is just peeking over the horizon, dying the world pink and gold. I wish I had the time to appreciate it.

I look and and gape. We were under a **_castle_ **?! Stony and grand, standing in all its mossy glory, is a castle with two thin, tall guard towers and two chunky round ones that have very small windows; probably the living quarters of whoever lives here.

Or lived, seeing as the entire thing looks ancient.

There are tall sequoia trees for as far as the eye can see. No sign of civilisation anywhere.

I snap my eyes forwards. The door has been left wide open. I take off as if it’s going to close at any second.

_Marco._

The world blurs as I stumble inside and am greeted with a long, empty room with stone walls. My eyes are everywhere until they land on a staircase with a messy trail of blood leading up.

_Marco._

I pant as I sprint up the winding stairs, not slowing for anything.

 _Marco_.

I turn corner after corner, run down hall after messy hall, all smeared with blood.

_Marco._

I slam my whole body into a thick wooden door, blocked from the other side. I hear the crack of splintering wood and am suddenly tumbling forward into fresh air again. I made it to the very top of one of the guard towers.

I raise my gaze from the stone block ground and see a tall figure dressed in black.

Standing.

And a figure in black pants and a used-to-be-white shirt. Now it is entirely red.

Collapsed, lifeless and still.

“Marco…”

_Am I too late?_

“So you made it. Ever so loyal, Monsier.” A too-smooth voice says.

The Phantom.

I pant, out of breath, and stumble towards Marco’s fallen body, which is only ten feet away.

 _Click_.

A gun cocking.

“Not a foot closer. She is mine.”

I wheeze. “You’re…..insane….he’s not…Christine.”

I gulp in air. “This _man_ isn’t Christine _._ He’s not yours. And I’m not….Monsier le Vicomte. I’m not even french.”

The Phantom scoffs. “Do not pretend. You have run from me for so long.“  He whirls around. His mask is missing and I flinch back, disturbed. His face is so contorted that it’s like a kaleidoscope came to life and attacked him.

“BUT NO MORE!”

He raises the gun and points it directly at me.

“No, thief, you shall never take Christine from me again! I have you both right where I want you. I shall kill you…” He twists his head to gaze at Marco, “and marry her.”

He grins, eyes wild. “You see, we match now.” He keeps the gun pointed at me as he creeps towards Marco. He turns Marco’s body over with a foot.

Gold glints in the rising sun.

_The molten gold back in the torture room._

The right half of Marco’s face is covered in a uneven mask of gold, his skin blistering and sickly red where the gold meets it. It’s obvious that the gold was poured directly onto Marco’s face, freshly melted down and unimaginably hot.

I sob and choke.

Marco’s right arm is gone from the shoulder down. His chest is crusted with blood and there are ragged holes where his ribs are. His right hip is grinded into, noodles of flesh plastered down by blood and dirt.

The Phantom kicks him. His eyes don’t even flutter.

_Is he dead?_

_Please, oh god, no, don’t let him be dead._

“She stopped singing as I gave her the mask. I’m sure she was tired from her show.” The Phantom muses. “And what a show it was! Such a perfect, divine voice.” He hums at Marco’s body. He sighs.

“She will wake eventually.” He turns his back and walks to the edge of the tower.

I lunge for Marco.

I only just reach his body as the Phantom turns back around.

He smiles coldly at me. “Well, I suppose one last goodbye is reasonable. It isn’t like she will want to see you anyway.” And he turns away again.

Thank god, a bit of mercy at the last second.

I immediately  turn back to Marco.

“Marco. Hey, Marco, come on.” I tap the uncovered part of his face gently. “Marco, wake up. Wake up for me, please.” A drop of water lands on his face, where I held it in my hands. My tear.

“Marco. Marco….” I cough out the last part around the lump in my throat.

“Come on…” I rest his head in my lap and stroke his hair. I can barely see his freckles, his face is so pale.

My tears keep falling and my chest constricts so tight it feels like there's a fist crushing my lungs.

“Please, my love, wake up for me…” I whimper into his shoulder. He smells like toast and lavender, like always. I can still smell it through the stench of iron.  

“Yours, huh? Sounds good….” A voice breathes in my ear.

**_Marco._ **

I yank back to see his unfocused eyes half open. They’re rimmed with red. But alive.

I can’t breathe I’m so relieved.

I press a shaky, lingering kiss on his forehead.

 

_BANG._

 

w _hat?_

  


I’m floating.

 

Misty, cold, unreal.

 

And then I slam back onto earth.

Marco goes completely limp in my hands.

I see the light die from his eyes, the chocolate glow fading into empty gray.

“That’s quite enough, Raoul.”

“No…” I whisper.

_This isn’t supposed to happen._

_I promised._

_Come back._

“NO!” I scream, shaking Marco. Blood starts pooling under him. My hands turn red and slippery as I try to pull his torso back into my lap.

I’m pulled back by the back of my shirt and slammed onto the ground, the Phantom towering over me, blocking out the rising sun completely. His face is blurred it’s so close to mine.

_This man is the man that took Marco away from me._

“You FUCK!” I scream, the words barely words behind the burst of outraged noise.

I bend my knees and launch the Phantom across the tower with a kick to his chest.

He lands with a satisfying thud, like a bag of sand.

Red floods my mind.

I go rabid.

I tear into him, slamming my fist into his face as hard as I possibly can, stomping on him like I’m juicing grapes, digging my nails into his face and pulling until the skin breaks and blood drips down his cheeks. It looks like he’s crying blood.

“YOU” punch “DISGUSTING” punch “MURDERING” punch “FUCKER!”

Blood gurgles out of his utterly destroyed nose, now a twisted, lumpy squish of flesh.

I stand up and jump on his chest, feeling his ribcage crack under me. I stomp until I see bone poking out of his chest, stabbing through his shirt and blazer. The smell of sour, rich blood is stifling, so much so that I can taste in my mouth.

He’s laughing hysterically, coughing up blood and choking on it.

I don’t stop. I can’t. My eyes start welling as the truth sinks in, and my throat closes until I'm gasping out loud sobs.

_Marco is gone._

The phantom is just a black and white blob in front of me, my tears blurring my vision. But I can tell, even with my lack of vision… he's smiling. A thick violot feeling balloons in my stomach and I keep ripping into him, tearing him apart.

I keep screaming, despite my throats feeling like a cheese grater.

I jump on his arm and it crunches, twisting into an awkward angle.   

“DIE, YOU PLAGUE!”

_Click._

“Farewell, sir.” The Phantom gurgles.

 

_BANG._

 

_oh._

 

I fall.

Everything dissolves.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess i pulled an attack on titan. Killing the main character? Check that off the list. One chapter left! Everything will be cleared up then. More or less.


	10. Affectionate bottle rocket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone, we're ok! Its ok! come and bathe in fluff.
> 
> Also, you're about to find out why I didn't click "major character death" as a tag.   
> (Should I have? I don't know. Temporary character death? Fake character death? Hm.)

GASP!

 

I jolt upright, panting and dissoriented.

“Hah, hah….” I gulp desperately, my throat dry and tacky. My breath sounds like airplane engines, it’s so loud in the otherwise silent space.

_Where….?_

Wherever I am is kinda dark. Has no one heard of lights?

And why do I smell toast?

I shift and hear the creak of mattress springs under me. Ok, so I guess I’m in...a bed.

I look down to find a green blanket with the Wings of Freedom symbol embroidered neatly into it.

_My blanket…. Marco made it for me two holiday seasons ago._

 

_Wait._

 

**_Marco._ **

 

I throw the covers off myself and leap off the bed, scrambling for where I think the door is. My hand collides with something round and metal and I yank it open.

I’m ambushed with bright light and blink through the white fog now digging painfully into my retinas. Guess who doesn’t care right now though? Me, bitch.

_Where’s Marco._

And be clear: that’s not a question. That’s a demand.

I clumsily clunk down a blue painted hallway with two left feet and stumble into a wall before turning a corner.

In the kitchen, stands the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. Dressed in nothing but my old baseball jersey and his Legend of Zelda boxers, tending to an omelet in a small pan on the stove, stands Marco in all his freckled glory. The sunshine leaking through the curtains makes it look like he has a halo.

Is he humming the pokemon theme song?

Oh my god, I adore him.   
And oh my god, he’s fucking **alive.**

I launch myself onto him, clinging like a koala would to a tree. He barks out  in surprise, clinging to the countertop so he doesn’t fall over. Oops, sorry Marco.

Not that sorry though.

And, you know what, I’m fresh outta fucks to give.

So I start sobbing.

Ok, that was not really what I had in mind to get my message across, but it works.

“Jean!” Marco gasps, “what’s wrong, what happened?!”

I look up and see his brows furrow.

And I’m transported back to how his face twisted when he was tortured and start sobbing harder. His shoulder is getting wet with my tears, but he’s going to have to deal with it right now. I’m an emotional mess and when I’m an emotional mess, I do stupid shit.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Marco coos and starts petting my hair.

I nod, still crying. I’m going to run out of water to cry, shit.

“Oh, Jean… you wanna talk about it?”

I shake my head so hard I get dizzy for a second.

“O-ok...so-”

I don’t let him finish his thought, because, like I said, no fucks left in me.

I hide my face in his neck, nose squashed and say something that I probably shouldn’t.

“Ilovoo.” I mumble, smashing my words together into verbal paste. Oops, so much for the English language. If Marco could understand that, bless him.

Wait, did I say that? Oh. Well. Stupid shit number one. Thanks mouth. You suck.

Actually, I hope you do. I’ve seen Marco naked. He’s not exactly small.

Gotta get that vitamin D, y’know what I’m sayin’?

Anyways.

Marco stiffens in my arms and I feel his pulse jump.

“What?” He wheezes. Ah. He did understand.

Well, I’m already here, so.

If you’re gonna hit it, hit it ‘till it breaks.

Or something like that.

I literally face my fears and pull back to look at his face.

“I. I love you, alright? Also, don’t die. Please. ”

“I...don’t plan on it?” His breath stutters like butterfly wings. His eyes flit around the room behind us. His face burns with a bright red blush.

Whoops, did I put that there?

I’m about to open my mouth and say something about how it’s good that he’s not planning on dying, but the smell of something burning makes itself known right then.

I think I just got cockblocked by breakfast.

“Shit- the omelet!” Marco scrambles for the pan and spatula. I’m forced to release him and he rushes over to the sink to cool the pan. The heat of the pan sizzles out under the cold water and Marco sighs.

“Damn…” I hear him mutter.

“Uh, want help making another?” I meekly offer.

Wow, I’m being _meek_ now. When was the last time I was like this around him? I suppose I’m just being this way because he still isn’t reacting to the not-exactly-platonic-feelings situation. That, or I’m just too nervous to be able to read him well. Maybe both.

“It was meant to be a surprise for you….” He sounds so disappointed.

I flounder for an answer that isn’t a surprised cough.

“It’s ok! It’s my fault for ruining it- I mean, I was the one that tackled you. So, no stress, yeah?” I smile at him. He looks hesitant.

“But I still want to make you one. So, uh, go wait in the lounge room, alright? “ His voice is sweet. Normal.

He still isn’t really reacting and it’s driving me nuts.

“Y-yeah. Um, then we can talk?” I feel like I’m walking on thin ice.

Marco looks at the ground, smile catching the corners of his lips. That’s good, right?

“Yeah, absolutely. “ He grins at me from where he’s standing in front of the stove and it’s like sunlight is shining directly on my face.

It feel like there’s an acrobat doing cartwheels in my heart.

Marco clears his throat. “Go sit, love.” His freckles are drowning in his blush.

The acrobat is joined by a entire circus. My head feels like it’s on fire. My tongue basically melts in my mouth.

“Oh. Uhmm. Kay.” I nod dumbly and wander towards the lounge room on wobbly knees.

Holy shit. I did that. And he did that.

_Well, fuck me sideways with a spatula._

I feel like I’m floating. Is this cloud nine? I mean, Marco just called me love. Yeah, this is cloud nine.

I flop onto the couch without grace and the couch complains with a puff and a creak of it’s century old springs. I stare in the general direction of the TV and glance down at the movie and game shelf. My eyes land on a game that has been left on the floor. The Evil Within, Marco’s favorite game. I’ve watched him play it a million times over- always great and horrible at the same time. But hey, at the end, I’m so terrified that Marco takes mercy on me and lets me sleep next to him.

Maybe I don’t need an excuse now. I can just cuddle him whenever. Wow, imagine that.

I think about it and the contents of my brain goes something like kjdfngioucghomggpr.

Melted into a puddle of goop.

How did I even get here?

I remember how much of a mess I was when I met him.

Those days made me feel like I was a boat in the ocean, rocking and dizzy with the waves.

These waves were black and thick and tar-like, sticking to and defiling my body. Terrifying and uncomfortable in the worst way, like being scolded by the person you look up too the most or stepping on a slug with bare feet.

The ocean was so _heavy_ , like cement. It seemed unescapable and so, so big.

I was just a tiny boat on an ocean that went on forever.

Drifting.

This was what I was before I met Marco.

Before I fell for him so hard there was an audible _crash_.

When I nine years old and my classmates sneered at me. The boy without a dad. The boy who tried to kiss another boy. The boy that didn’t smile.

The weird one.

The dumb one.

The quiet one.

The violent one.

The sad one.

The _broken_ one.

That one hurt the most because it felt true.

Labels and names were my childhood. And I became those labels and names, because what else was a child supposed to do? I tried so hard to be likeable because that way people would stay. And when they didn’t, I locked myself off. I became cold and distant and a no one. No one knew my name.

They didn’t bother asking.

The other children didn’t invite me to play. They didn’t say good morning or hello or how are you. They didn’t even look at me.

I had succeeded in becoming a ghost.

I thought I would be proud. I had changed, like dad said I couldn’t. I had become a different person, shifting from a loud kid that spoke his mind and felt his feelings to a silent, emotionless shell.

Pride never came. It just hurt. The glares from the other children and the isolation.

Oh, the isolation.

It ached like nothing else I’ve ever felt. Thinking about it now revives the cold stone in my stomach and I blink and remember where I am. Home, safe. I can breath again.

It takes nothing more than a deep breath and a slow exhale to get rid of the crushing memories these days.

Why?

There’s a certain someone that did ask my name and invite me to play and crashed through the walls I had built. A certain freckled angel that lifted me up from that ocean of loneliness with his freckles and his soft touch.

Guess who.

 

Marco walks into the room, balancing a plate of steaming food and a glass of orange juice with a wobbly smile. He locks eyes with me and grins like he’s staring at the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. I feel my cheeks heat and he giggles. _Giggles._ What’s that noise? Oh, just me dying. I’m allergic to adorableness, you see.

“Here you go!” Marco chirps, setting the plate and glass on the coffee table in front of me. It looks amazing. And I totally don’t deserve this.

“Marco, you didn’t-”

Marco shushes me and places his entire hand on my face, effectively squishing back my words. He removes it and I can see him grinning.

“Too bad! I wanted to! And I know that you love omelets. I also know you had a nightmare so bad that you hugged me and then, uh, started crying that I was still alive.” Marco lifts his other hand from where it was curled in his lap and places both his hands over one of mine. His hands are a little sweaty and his blush strengthens, covering his ears in red. He clears his throat. He opens his mouth and closes it again. He licks his lips. His hand squeezes mine and I flip my hand to squeeze back. He smiles down at his lap.

“Marco…?” I lean forward a little.

Marco huffs a breath. He looks very determined.

“A-and I wanted to make something nice for you. Because you’re my best friend. And I, uh.” He pauses and his voice drops. I have to lean closer to hear. “And I love you too.”

If I wasn’t busy grinning so hard my cheeks hurt, I probably would have thought of how we’re as bad as a shitty romance novel.

“Holy fuck, is this real.” I tip forward and nuzzle my forehead into Marco’s shoulder, eyes shut. I can feel Marco’s intake of breath and after a moment’s hesitation, his head comes to rest on mine.   
“I...uh, hope so.” He whispers shakely.

I smile stupidly.

“Are you actually going to eat your breakfast, Jean?” Marco taps my thigh with a finger and the weight of his head on mine lifts. I hum and open my eyes to lazily gaze at the still steaming food.

“Only if you share it with me.”

Marco hums back. “I think that can be arranged.”

I lift my head and meet his eyes. “Wow, we’re already sappy. We’re going to end up being that couple that everyone grimaces at because they’re too cute. “

Marco sucks in a breath. “Y-you want to be a couple?

Shit, did I push it too far? Fuck, wait-

Marco pushes my shoulders and I flop backwards onto the couch. My head- thankfully- hits the pillow that is always shoved in the corner and suddenly I’m on my back, looking up at the ceiling.

“Woah!”

Marco clambers onto me and sits directly on my lap like a kid on Christmas. Or Hanukkah. Or, uh, any other significant holiday. But the important part is he’s on my lap and wiggling with happiness.

That’s another thing he does. He wiggles when he get really excited or happy and while that’s adorable, maybe could he not do it on my lap? This situation could take a very different turn.

“Marco, uh, hey-”

I grab his hips and still him. He’s smiling like pure sunshine at me.

“You want to be a couple?” He grips the pillow beneath my head as he leans over me.

I feel my lips turn into a squiggly line as I ping-pong between exuberant joy and oh-shit-did-fuck-up.  
“Y-yeah? Is that, uh, ok? Or did you mean love as in, like, best friend love or-” Am I rambling? Yeah, I think I’m rambling. How does one stop rambling? Because I-

Marco leans down and by impulse I shut my eyes. There’s a soft pressure on my lips, warm and plush and everything around me smells like lavender and toast and _holy shit is Marco kissing me_.

His lips are moving, pressing and silky soft. My brain is totally full of static. My body has turned into helium and I’m floating away.

Marco pulls back and I blink up at him, eyes wide. Marco clears his throat and licks his lips. The ones that were on mine a second ago. Wow.

“Well, that worked. “ Marco looks surprised. “So, uhm. Does that answer your question?”

Jean.exe has stopped working.

“Jean?” Marco taps a finger against my cheek. “Did I break you?” He giggles again.

I clear my voice poorly and end up sounding like a cat hacking. “Maybe a little.”   
Marco laughs. “You looked a little like the blue screen of death for a minute there.”

I rub a circle on his hip with my thumb. “Yeah, I, uh. Yeah. ”

Marco ducks down and presses a kiss to my forehead, my cheek, my nose.

“So. Your boyfriend, huh?”

My heart jumps at the word and a bubble swells in my chest.

“Mhm. That’s. Yep.”

_Eloquent, Jean._

Marco makes a noise akin to a mouse being trodden on and flops forward onto my chest.

“Sounds good, babe.”

_Babe????_

_Is there steam coming from my ears yet?_

Marco lifts his head from where it was tucked under my chin.

“Is it ok to use names like that? Um, yet? “ He sounds not quite concerned but sort of...reserved.

Typical Marco. He gets these bursts of confidence and then goes back to check if what he did is ok.

“Y-yeah. It’s cute.”

_Am I admitting this?_

“And….it kinda makes my heart...do...a thing. “

_Yeah, I guess I am._

“So. It’s perfect. I love it. Because you’re my…. my Angel.”

Haha! I did it! There’s party poppers and confetti everywhere in my head.

Marco blinks at me. His eyes start wide, but turn into impossibly soft pools of chocolate brown.

“Yeah, I think I can be that.”

I make a questioning noise. I’m pretty sure I know what he’s talking about, but I kind of maybe really want to hear him say it.

Marco rolls his eyes. He knows. He always knows.

“Your Angel.” He blinks and shifts. “Hey, remember back in high school, I was in theatre?”

He hums the Legend of Zelda opening theme. What a nerd.

_My nerd now though._

“I could be your Angel of Music too.”

I wheeze out a breath, remembering the dream. Holy fuck, no. Why did he say that specific thing? Coincidences can suck my ass.

“No, no, no. Just my Angel.” Crap, that sounds rude. “You don’t need anything extra.”

Marco raises an eyebrow. “Nice save there.”

“Oh, shush, that was smooth as silk.”

Marco snorts a laugh. “You trying to be smooth is like watching a train wreck in reverse. But ok.”

I stick my tongue out at him and he grins. Cheeky.

Marco shuffles a little and his eyes narrow. “Why not Music though?”

Oh, right.

How do I explain that I had a dream about how we and all our friends were kidnapped by the Phantom from the Phantom of the Opera in an Evil Within universe and our Bio professor- as well as the the Trost police force- were animaguses? That’s a mouthful. Or brainful, since I’m thinking it.

“Do you want a general idea or details?” I hesitantly ask. I don’t know what I want his answer to be.

Marco hums. “General idea with some details. So, um, a summary.”

“It sounds kind of insane.” I warn, but that’s not going to ward off Marco.

Marco, as expected, wiggles into a more comfortable position and settles on my chest.

“Well, there must be some reason that you launched yourself at me this morning, other than waking up on the drama king side of bed. Go for it, babe.”

I think back to my dream and how it had inspired me to tell Marco how I feel, as cliche and cheesy as that sounded. And as much as I hated it while it was happening, I feel almost grateful to it now. It’s a perfect circle, in a fucked up kind of way. But this is a good conclusion to it.

I take a deep breath and let it out.

“Well, my Angel, it goes a little like this…..”

  
  
  
  


~END~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to all who lasted the whole fic, thank you for reading! it means so much!! i know there were some really rough spots, but we made it! Again, thank you! I'm already working on the next fic's story line and then ill start writing it. (cough merpeople cough)  
> bye!


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